


Evil witches don't grow moustaches

by Kalisca



Series: Molochītis et Aureus [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Job, Cullen in Distress, Cullen with long hair, Curses, Dorian in Shining Armor, Fluff and Smut, Hand Job, M/M, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, The Lion of Ferelden, lion!cullen, mages are witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalisca/pseuds/Kalisca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Aureus was on the bed, which was barely big enough for Dorian’s luxurious tastes already, but froze when he noticed the glare Dorian was sending him. He was acting like one of those Mabaris who could kill on sight but begged for affection from their master.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“You want to cuddle?” Aureus, reassured by the calm tone of his voice, continued to crawl closer and sprawled himself against Dorian, one of his paws resting across his chest and his fur tickling his face. He was also very warm, almost a furnace against Dorian’s cold limbs. The witch turned on his side with a hum of contentment and returned to sleep, his hand loosely gripping Aureus’ mane. </i></p><p> --</p><p>Set in an universe where mages are fewer and seen as evil witches who steal babies at night, Dorian is a secluded necromancer who helps people at his own conditions. He’s used to a solitary life in the cold of the South until a lion clawing at his door changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death tends to do that

**Author's Note:**

> I recently came across an original story of mine I did for the [100 Theme Challenge](http://follespensees.blogspot.com/2014/04/a-new-challenge-ooh.html) a while back on my personal blog, before DAI even had been announced, about a wicked necromancer, and I thought this was perfect. I've noticed how Cullen is often compared to a lion, but I never saw any fic in which he's an actual lion (not in the Cullrian tag anyway, but it's not like I'm checking the tag everyday *cough*), so I decided to give it a go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art was done by Mica Sky, check out her [tumblr](http://mica-sky.tumblr.com/) to see her other awesome works.

 

[ ](http://37.media.tumblr.com/237e7c99c684211e631bf92968bed3cb/tumblr_nu23aihvXi1thokofo1_1280.jpg)

 

"Some people cannot be saved. It's a fact of life; from our birth, we await death. One's bones are the center of their body, their foundation. The soul has its place carved into the bones and is attracted to them. It will embrace it and allow the flesh to surround them both. I have the ability to put back together soul and bones, but it does come with a heavy price. Are you willing to pay it?"

"Anything to see once again our daughter, sir, anything," eagerly agreed the woman. Her husband and her were clutching each other in Dorian's small living room, where mysterious decorations were displayed.

"All right, then it shall be twenty-five now, and the other half later."

The man nodded and pushed the gold on his table. They waited, eyes gleaming with hope.

"Did you bring her bones?" Dorian asked, preparing his tools.

"Of course. Here they are." They gave him a leather bag, which he accepted. He placed candles on the edges of the pentagram carved into the wooden table. Slowly, he took the bones out of the bag and placed them in the center. He took a chalice and a dagger and also brought them on the table. Without a flinch, he cut his palm, not deep yet enough to draw some blood into the cup. He began to mutter something unknown to the mourning couple. The air around them suddenly felt heavier, it was getting difficult to breathe. The man hugged his wife, but they kept watching the odd ritual of Dorian the Necromancer.

The bones were moving, arranging themselves in the shape of a human skeleton. A blur, and pale, grey flesh erupted from them. Soon, a small girl sat in the middle of the room. Dorian puffed, out of breath, and wrapped a vest around the frail shoulders.

"Oh, Elena," sobbed the woman as the couple hugged her. She looked lost, confused. "You're back with us now, our dear daughter."

"She looks pale. Is that normal?"

"Death tends to do that." Dorian shrugged. The man paid him and out they were, eager to return home with their daughter. Dorian chuckled and placed the money in his vault before cleaning the mess he made out of his little superfluous but impressive-looking show.

The couple came back a week later with puffy eyes but anger crisping their fingers.

"You charlatan! You told us you could make her come back!"

"And I did." He caught the heavy bag they threw at him. He took a glimpse inside.

"Each day her body kept decaying, her limbs turning black until they would fall off. What kind of monster are you to make us suffer our daughter's death a second time?"

"You asked me to resurrect her, yet you never specified for how long. I deemed a week of her company whilst she was supposed to be dead was a fine trade."

The woman spat on the floor. "You should have warned us!"

Dorian smirked. People in mourning were the easiest to deceive. "You should've asked."

They glared at him, and before they left, the man said: "Each time you resurrect someone, a small part of Death stays inside you. May it rotten you alive."

Dorian clicked his tongue. “I believe I already am.” On that, he closed the door on them. He needed to start on that new bottle of whiskey he bought with his hard-earned gold.

He drunk himself into a stupor until he passed out. Somehow he woke up in his bed in the midst of the night. He groaned, his mind blurry with remnants of alcohol, and he wondered what could have disturbed his sleep. The rain, perhaps, for it was falling hard against his small house. He listened carefully, used to some angry customers trying to breach his magical glyphs, but it didn't seem like a human. It sounded more like claws rattling against his door accompanied by soft whines. An animal? One who must be seeking refuge from the storm.

Dorian sighed, too drunk still to move, but another whine willed him to get up with a groan. His home wasn't an animal refuge, and he intended to make it leave, with a fireball if necessary.

What he didn't expect however was how large the dog was. Its fur was drenched, its golden eyes looking at him pitifully. That blasted creature knew how to play with his emotions, and Dorian felt his resolution crumble at the state of the animal.

"Alright, come in, you big dog."

It wasn't until the beast happily stepped in to warm itself before the fireplace that Dorian realized it wasn't a dog. He'd never seen such creature before, but at least it wasn't aggressive. He fetched a towel, grumbling about the wet traces it left behind, and came back to the animal. It looked at him, its mane all ruffled up, and Dorian made a disgusted noise at the smell.

"You reek horribly, even with your forced shower. I can't imagine what it was before. Now, will you bite my hands off if I dry you off with the towel?"

It was a smart beast, intelligence glowing in those pretty eyes, and its tail moved slowly which Dorian took as his cue. It seemed content enough to let him as it warmed itself, and Dorian chuckled despite himself when its fur went everywhere under his motions.

"I wonder how you came by here, I never saw such creatures like yourself in this area. The mane must be quite useful, it's always so cold here."

The fireplace contained only dying embers, so he lit it back with a flick of his wrist. The burst of magic displeased the creature, if the sudden tension in its limbs was any clue. Without much of a thought, Dorian scratched it behind the twitching ears.

"Hush, I won't hurt you, you poor beast." Who had, though? Dorian couldn't help but ponder. He saw animal cruelty on the same level than rape, and he knew all too well how much it was occurring. Some women would sometimes request his help to get rid of an undesired baby created from such events.

"You must be hungry..." Dorian let go of its soft fur that he'd been playing with and went to look what he could give to it.

He found some leftovers from the night before, some ham he planned to make soup with, but instead he placed it into a bowl, filled another one with water, and placed them beside the animal that began to happily eat. It really was like a huge dog.

Dorian began to doze off on his feet, and so he looked around for an extra blanket, replaced the towel with it once the creature settled itself on the ground.

"Goodnight then," Dorian patted it on the head before climbing into bed. He'd have to make some research to know what it was exactly. Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few theories that lions could exist in Northern Thedas, as Sten once stated he fought hunter cats back in the jungles of Seheron. Their exact location remains unknown, so I tried to be the most logical and decided they were coming from Par Vallen and Seheron and extended down to the North of Tevinter, as far as this story goes.
> 
> My tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)


	2. Aureus

The next morning, Dorian woke up and immediately felt watched. He turned around, his hand fetching the cover back up, and was surprised to see a pair of golden eyes watching him from the side of the bed.

The beast was even bigger now that Dorian could actually see it. Its fur was a luscious golden blond, beautiful under the sunlight. It wagged its tail when it noticed Dorian was awake, its demeanor happy.

"Hi there," he grumbled, head pounding. He smiled when a cold nose brushed his forearm, forcing him to get up. He fixed himself an elfroot tea and fed the animal who was following him everywhere before he looked through his exotic animals' books. He quickly found out that it was a lion, and a male by the luxurious mane. He knew there was some in Tevinter, but he never had the chance to witness one, or at least the body attached to the fur could be found in Minrathous’ markets.

The lion sniffed around, taking in everything he could from his height. He made small groans at the sight of his trinkets, which held no purpose but to impress his customers, but Dorian was relieved that he didn't break anything. Some of these shiny things cost a lot, after all, and he might be financially at ease nowadays, but it was nowhere near his childhood years during which he could afford to break all his possessions and buy them over again without batting an eye. Dorian watched him move around his house, he was impressed that such a mighty animal could move so gracefully, not handicapped by his size by no means.

He came back towards his meal afterwards and continued eating like he hadn't just examined every corner of the house. The witch knew that it was a predator used to the outside field, but the books hadn't told him about how smart they were or the slightly intimidating aura.

Today's weather was sunny however, no clouds in the sky, so the lion probably would be on his merry way once he was done eating. Dorian had to collect some herbs as well to make potions, so he quickly cleaned himself. The lion was happy to follow him outside as Dorian checked his protection glyphs, making sure they were all in place before they ventured on the path made by countless footsteps.

“Alright, boy, off you go,” Dorian told him after a last scratch behind the ear. He gestured down the path opposite of the direction of his own destination. The lion made a few steps, then turned to look at him, his tail swinging.

“Return to your master now, and leave the evil Necromancer to his somber life…” Dorian gestured for him to continue, which didn't earn him anything but a confused look.

Dorian tutted when the lion instead began to follow him. He scowled at him. “ _Fasta Vass,_ you don’t realize who you’re following, do you? People hate me because I represent what they fear; magic and death.” Still no reaction. Now that he thought of it, lions were a wild species, he doubted he had a master. Dorian sighed. “I suppose you can stay with me for the time.”

The lion was all too happy to follow him, rolling in tall grass and chasing around bunnies while the witch kept looking for herbs. Dorian found it amusing until he trapped a rabbit and ate it whole, and then proceeded to sniff around with a bloodied muzzle. He distracted Dorian enough that he realized he missed some plants, and had to turn back a few times.

Once Dorian collected enough plants of a small clearing, they turned around. He had to prepare a batch of potions for his next day’s delivery at Haven. People might not believe in magic, but they swore by his elfroot potion. Of course they thought it was a production of the village’s healer, who was more than happy to buy from Dorian for a fair price. The ignorance of some was the fortune of others.

The lion promptly sprawled himself on the floor of the kitchen, his belly offered to the warmth of the sun shining through the sole window of the room. Dorian smiled at the display, then went on to make his potions.

“Perhaps I should give you a name, if you’re to stay with me.” Dorian told him, swirling the cauldron’s contents with a wooden spoon. The animal opened his eyes, but made no move.

“I suppose any name would do, no?” Dorian thought for a moment. He certainly wouldn’t give him a simple name, the beast was too magnificent for such lack of originality. “Why not _Aureus?_ You like that? It means gold in Tevene, like the color of your pretty eyes.”

_ Aureus _ made a noise and got on his feet. His frame was taking most of Dorian’s kitchen, and as he approached the mage, he looked even more intimidating in such small space. Instead he rose up one of his large fluffy paws and put it against the necromancer’s stomach before leaning his head against Dorian’s hip. He wasn’t an expert in cat demeanor, but he was mostly sure this was a sign of affection. How such a big beast could take a liking in him, Dorian had no clue, but his dead heart regained a few flicks of life at his gesture. He stroked the soft fur of his head, fingers threading through his mane, and Aureus purred.

“You might be handsome,” Dorian said after a few minutes of petting, “but you really stink. If you’re to stay with me, you need a good wash.”

Aureus blinked, but made no sign that he understood Dorian. He stayed nearby while the necromancer finished his task and corked the bottles once he filled them with the potion. Once that was done, he took a few towels and his grooming kit along with a trap for small animals and went outside, Aureus following suit. He wasn’t the best hunter, but he knew the best way to capture rabbits. Installing the trap was now quite easy, he would see if it caught anything on the way back.

“I’ll show you my secret place, but I’m not sure if you’ll actually appreciate it.”

Aureus chased another wild animal before they reached Dorian’s relaxing spot. It was a natural pond he found one day by accident when he was being chased by a few angry customers (he took care of them ever since, of course), and he’d improved the place over time since nobody frequented it save for himself.

He put his items beside the pond before warming up the water with a spell almost to a scorching temperature. It was always so cold, his bath time was one of the only times he could get warm. He quickly undressed and placed his clothes safely on a rock, shivering when the wind stole the little bit of warmth he had left.

“Come on, Aureus.” He turned, surprised that the lion’s gaze was on him. “What are you doing, looking at me like that? Am I so handsome that I already captured your lion's heart?”

He quickly submerged himself in the water, sighing as the warmth embraced him. He closed his eyes for a second to enjoy the sensation, before he gestured for Aureus to join him. The lion was watching the ripples of the water, careful that none of it touched his paws. He took a step back when Dorian swam to his side of the pond, but leaned over and licked his wet hand when Dorian offered it. His tongue felt like being rubbed by sand, and Dorian laughed at the odd sensation.

“You have to get in if you want to smell better.” After some more luring from the mage, Aureus followed him, splashing water everywhere in the process. He instinctively moved his paws to stay above and swam around, sneezing once when water got in his nose. Dorian used that distraction to wash himself, dipping his head in the water and coming back to a bear-sized cat wanting to play with him. Dorian laughed at his behaviour and indulged him as best as he could, as he never played with a lion before, and naked at that. He then used the distraction to wash him with his own soap before Aureus got out the water and laid in the grass to let his fur dry. 

Dorian used the mirror he’d installed some time ago to shave his stubble and tame his moustache. The sides of his hair were also getting long, so he trimmed them with another tool. He had his vanity, he took pride in being the most handsome Witch of the South. People might despise him, but nobody could deny his beauty.

Satisfied, he got out the water and put back on his clothes. He gently petted Aureus to wake him up from his nap. The lion jerked awake, then relaxed and purred contently under Dorian’s ministrations. 

“Ready to head back?” He smirked at the lazy look he received. “There’s plenty of sun in my house as well.”

He was happy to find out that his trap had caught something. He made sure the rabbit was dead with an electricity spell and tucked the catch in his satchel. Aureus made a small sound, smelling something in the grass, and Dorian approached him to get a better look.

It was a charred body. They were clear indications that multiple persons had tried to get inside his house, but one got caught in one of his glyphs. Bandits perhaps, because only a few were stupid or ignorant enough to try to enter without his consent. His reputation had been made over the years.

“Nothing to worry about,” Dorian told the nervous-looking Aureus. He turned gilded eyes at him, his muzzle and fluffy ears twitching, to which Dorian almost cooed.

“This is no new discovery," he reassured him. "Imagine hearing an explosion in the middle of your beauty sleep. That’s a story for another time.”

Dorian removed the protections for a moment to enter after he checked where the trail led on. Haven. Whatever it was, they would be back if it was important.

Aureus hadn’t triggered the glyphs the previous day for they only worked with humans. They were the real threat, he’d never seen any elf around, and animals were ruling the forest, he had no desire to kill them one by one. Well, except for that time some squirrels began to party on his rooftop in the midst of the night. Let’s just say he had a squirrel stew shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while back, I watched one of Kevin Richardson's documentaries showing him living with lions. They’re basically giant cats who cuddle and like sunbaths when they're not hunting, and the relationship between Dorian and lion!Cullen is based on the one Richardson has with his lions (and hyenas) in the documentary.
> 
> My tumblr: [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	3. A witch and a lion walk into a tavern

Darkness closed down around Dorian’s house as they ate. Aureus made a mess of his meal everywhere but in the bowl Dorian placed down for him. He then fell asleep against Dorian’s legs as the mage read well through the night about lions, the fire from the fireplace slowly dying until only embers remained.

He stepped over Aureus to put a few logs in the hearth to start a new fire, then quickly changed into his bed clothes, made with a warmer fabric. Already relaxed with all his reading, it wasn’t long before he fell asleep.

He stirred from his slumber when the bed shifted and something pulled at the covers. Groaning and shivering, Dorian pulled them back, but it wouldn’t budge. He opened his eyes and sighed. Aureus was on the bed, which was barely big enough for Dorian’s luxurious tastes already, but Aureus froze when he noticed the glare Dorian sent him. He was acting like one of those Mabaris who could kill on sight but begged for affection from their master.

“You want to cuddle?” Aureus, reassured by the calm tone of his voice, continued to crawl closer and sprawled his long body against Dorian, one of his paws resting across his chest and his fur tickling his face. He was very warm, almost a furnace against Dorian’s colder limbs. The witch turned on his side with a hum of contentment and returned to sleep, his hand loosely gripping Aureus’ mane.

He woke up like this, warm and a bit suffocating under a part of the lion’s weight. Dorian didn’t even know where his moustache started and ended under the mass of fur his face was pressed against. He could only move one arm, the other was trapped under Aureus.

Dorian writhed to try to get free, without success. A lion was very heavy, Dorian concluded with a grunt of annoyance. He twisted around so he was more or less wrapped around Aureus’ warm body.

Dorian watched his cute sleeping face for a minute before he blew air on his ear since he couldn’t use his hand. It twitched, but Dorian had to make a few attempts before the lion stirred. The mage felt the powerful body tense as he took in his surroundings and turned his head to look at Dorian. He smiled, nuzzling his soft cheek with his nose.

“Good morning, big cat.” Aureus’ purr reverberated in his limbs. It was his way of greeting Dorian. He then licked Dorian’s face, which felt like he rubbed his face with a handful of wet sand. He yelped and tried once more to free himself, but Aureus was having none of it. He successfully licked him a few more times before Dorian escaped, Tevene curses falling freely from his mouth. He understood this was Aureus’ way of showing his affection, and as much as it was endearing, it was also disgusting. The lion laid down his head against Dorian’s, engulfing him in his fur.

"We have to get up, you big oaf," Dorian said when Aureus made no move to get off him after a while. He felt more than he heard the lion huff in annoyance, and that earned him a startled laugh. "You really do understand me."

Aureus turned a bit, whistles tickling the side of his face. From this close, Dorian could see a thin scar through the short fur running down the right side of his mouth. Dorian lightly traced it, frowning. Lions were predators, it was expected he’d have scars… Yet Dorian disliked it. He noticed other old scars as well, inflicted by a blade for the most, but there was the evidence of fire use as well.

It was horrible to inflict this to a poor creature. He stroked him a few more minutes for the cause and got out of bed. He refreshed himself in the water filled basin designed for this and changed clothes to get ready for his journey. He packed the potions he was to deliver with a light meal under the gaze of Aureus. Last, he took his staff that he strapped to his back.

"Are you coming with me, _mellitus?_ " Aureus promptly rolled off the bed with a soft roar, his mouth opening in an odd smile with too many teeth.

Haven was a few hours of walk away, which suited Dorian for he had been the one choosing to establish himself this far from civilization. He didn't want to be bothered by unwilling or curious customers, and he knew that those who requested his help were ready for about anything. It was almost sad Dorian could so easily deceive them.

There weren't many enemies on the road, except for bandits who kept looking for trouble by keeping their camp so close to Dorian's house, but they were a nice opportunities for the witch to use offensive magic at his leisure.

Without him asking, Aureus joined the combat as he was taking care of two enemies at once, jumping at the throat of one. He made quick work of killing their enemies, his large form scaring them and being an enough distraction for Dorian's fireball to take them by surprise. He also used his swiftness and speed to chew a piece off an archer who hid behind a tree, and Dorian finished her with a bit of lightning.

Aureus returned to him with a confident glint in his eyes, despite his fur matted with blood, especially on his muzzle. “Are you alright?" Dorian quickly checked him to make sure none of this blood was his. Aureus turned his head to nuzzle his thigh, letting him know he was fine.

They continued on their path, the lion often brushing against his legs and staying on alert. Dorian was growing fond of him, he couldn’t deny it. It felt nice to have someone around, even if that someone didn’t talk. Aureus was very smart and didn't need to be told what to do, he was also very protective of him, which was something Dorian didn't really understand. He hadn't done anything to deserve such attention, after all.

Soon the mill of Haven became visible, meaning they were close of the village. The healer’s house was just a little further, and he asked Aureus to wait outside while he did his transaction, which went fast as usual. He knew the healer was doing just fine, but she didn't know the recipes he used to make his potions, nor did she had the magic to make them with effective.

“Let’s head to the tavern, we’ll go buy food and return home after,” Dorian told Aureus once his pouch felt heavier, and his basket, lighter. People were looking at him even more strangely than usual, whispering to one another, with the large beast at his side, but he didn’t care. He sighed when he followed him inside however instead of staying outside like he asked him to, but didn’t try to get him out. Aureus didn’t disrupt anything as he walked around the tables and the occupied chairs, smelling everything including the regulars who were too drunk to care.

He took a seat at the counter and ordered the only cheap ale they had here. He quickly gulped it down, eager to feel its effects and no longer care for its disgusting taste. They had a long way to return home, but he could indulge himself in a few drinks first.

One of the regulars, The Iron Bull, looked at Aureus and grunted in interest. He was a friendly person once they got past the 'Qunari vs Tevinter' phase, he never judged him for anything others easily judged him for, and that was a trait Dorian quickly came to like about him.

“That’s a mighty beast you have there, ‘Vint,” Bull smirked at Aureus.

“Isn't he? He’s very smart as well.”

“Same as me.” The Iron Bull let out a loud laugh as Aureus came towards them, done with his inspection. He offered a giant grey palm and the lion let himself be stroked between the ears. Dorian chuckled.

“Where did you found it?”

“It's a he. I didn’t, he found me. He came scratching at my door one night and refused to go ever since.”

The Qunari chuckled. “Seems like one of those Orlesian romance novels.”

“With more fur.”

“That, too.” The Iron Bull stayed a moment silent, during which Dorian nursed his second mug. “So he just came out of nowhere?"

"He did, and I haven't kidnapped him either."

"That's not why I asked. I once heard a story during my stay in Orlais about animals like him. It was about an evil witch who liked to turn humans into pets if they ever dared to come across her house in the middle of the woods. The Witch of the Wild, they called her.”

“An evil witch like me? I would never do that." Dorian drank some more, frowning. "Beside, why would you think Aureus is a cursed human?”

The Iron Bull was looking down at Aureus, who looked back. “Lions live up North in Par Vollen and Seheron, they don’t live in the South as far as I am aware, and I doubt anyone would dare to import them in Ferelden. The cold wouldn't suit them.” Bull shrugged. "Anyway, it's just a story. Has he ever done anything to prove he's more than an animal?"

"I haven't seen him write a book in the middle of the night or juggle with his food, if that's what you're asking." Dorian twisted an end of his moustache. It was summer, and Aureus was doing fine with the weather as far as he knew.  He never had any pets to compare his experience with the lion so far, but Aureus was smarter than even some humans, and he understood him very well. Aureus’ gaze was shifting from the Iron Bull to him and made a noise when they made eye contact.

“Could it be true, Aureus?”

A surprised laugh escaped him when Aureus actually nodded. A mix of emotions took hold of him; fascination with anger towards whoever did this, but mostly embarrassment. He’d seen him in his most intimate moments, a private part of him he thought no one would ever witness. At least Dorian hadn't thoroughly _enjoyed_ himself, which would have been mortifying.

“Vishante Kaffas.” He bit his lip and hoped his blush was hidden underneath his golden skin. The Iron Bull chuckled, took a large gulp of his ale.

“I’m guessing he came to you because you’re a witch.” The Qunari was one of the few in Haven who didn’t hold superstitions towards witches. He was a Tal-Vashoth after years of being a Ben-Hassrath, of traveling all over Thedas and gathering information on different cultures, and he was the most open-minded person Dorian had come across.

Dorian finished his mug without realizing, assimilating the news and already planning what he could do to help Aureus find back his original form.

First of all, researches were in order to confirm if such curses existed, and if they could be reversed. Luckily he knew someone in Haven who could help them both.

“Well, I must be going. Say my regards to Krem next time you see him, and tell him I’m still waiting for that sovereign he owes me.”

Iron Bull chuckled. “Will do.” He saluted him with his mug, and Dorian and Aureus made their way to the exit. “By the way Dorian…”

The witch turned, an eyebrow raised. Aureus was already at the door, looking at it as if it would open by itself.

“Evil witches don’t grow moustaches,” Iron Bull winked at him with one eye, which was… interesting. Dorian blinked, unsure of what to respond with, and finally nodded before disappearing outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mellitus** means honey in Latin, it's an endearment.
> 
> My tumblr: [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	4. Blackened heart, hollow mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters tend to be short because I write very slowly, so that’s why I usually stick to one-shots. I still have a chapter ahead for this story, luckily, and I at least know where the plot is going. Quick tease, you should glimpse at a human Cullen in about two or three chapters. ;)

The ale was pleasantly buzzing Dorian, but nothing distracting enough. Aureus and he walked to the other side of the village, with the bigger, fancier houses. Solas was living at the edge of Haven with his books and his paintings and nothing else, barely having anything in common with the rest of the nobles who didn’t hesitate to decorate themselves with the equivalent of their weight in jewelry. Dorian liked to discuss with the elf; he wasn’t the best company, but was knowledgeable in many topics.

He greeted Dorian politely and raised an eyebrow at Aureus, inviting them both in without a word.

“I’m here about him, in fact.” Dorian said after they installed themselves in his living room, where the walls were hidden behind bookshelves, some struggling to contain so many books.

“I sense a peculiar energy around him,” Solas commented. Despite his usual cold demeanor, he didn’t hesitate to touch Aureus when he brushed his head against his leg, his long fingers scratching his ears. “I am wondering how a lion came this close to Haven.”

“Aureus found me.” Dorian quickly told him about the circumstances of their meeting and Iron Bull’s tale. “Could such thing actually be true? I know about witches able to transform their physical form, but to curse others in animal form? I’ve never heard of such thing.”

“I read a similar tale, indeed. Witches can be specialized in any area, even if certain specializations are more common by a matter of popularity. To lift the curse would require us to find the specific one applied to Aureus to begin with.”

Aureus whined, dragging the attention on him, and he rolled on his back, one of his rear legs extended towards them. Of all time, he wanted to play? Dorian frowned, about to scowl him, when he noticed the pattern of his fur was odd above the articulation, and he could see a patch missing. He gently took his leg to get a better look. There was a mark inked on the bare, pink skin.

It looked like a tree, thin branches swirling almost all around Aureus’ leg. Dorian knew he saw that mark somewhere, but he couldn’t put his finger on its specific origin for Andraste’s knickers. Solas hummed and went to one of his many bookshelves. Amazingly enough, he quickly found what he was looking for and returned to his chair while Dorian stroked Aureus’ belly in reward. The elf found the page he wanted and showed Dorian.

“A vallaslin?” He read with a frown. He’d never heard of such thing.

“Part of. This is Mythal’s vallaslin.”

“What does it mean?” Dorian asked, not familiar with the Dalish culture.

“Many Dalish clans ink their face with a vallaslin of their chosen god as a rite of passage to adulthood, but their first use was to indicate they were the god’s slaves. It means that this lion is a slave of Mythal.”

Solas didn’t mention it, but Dorian was fairly sure the information hadn’t been shared to the Dalish elves, if they continued to use the ritual to this day.

“Mythal, an old god, have been the one cursing him? How did you fall in a god’s grip in the first place, _puellus_?”

Aureus scoffed, flattening his ears, and Dorian pet him in sympathy.

“What is Mythal the goddess of?” He asked to Solas.

“She is the All-Mother, the goddess of protection. It is believed she could transform herself into a dragon, so transforming someone else into an animal could very well be another power of hers.”

“Could her curse be lifted without invocating her?”

“Difficult, but not impossible. Any spell can be worked around and cancelled if one is powerful enough to do so."

"True. Thank you for the information, Solas. It'll require a bit of time, but I might be able to break whatever curse was put on you." That last sentence was meant to Aureus, whose tail twitched.

Solas lend him the book on Dalish Culture, knowing Dorian would take care of it. He also offered to further help, but Dorian declined, claiming it was his task to do. Aureus had come to him, and if Mythal truly had placed a curse on him, then trying to remove it might put the Tevinter witch in danger, something he was ready to deal with, but nobody else.

Dorian quickly went to the market to buy supplies whilst Aureus ran around to follow all those new scents. Some people got out of his way as he approached, but some actually stopped to pet him, which he relished. Dorian had to call him back to him, and off they were on their way back to the witch's house.

Aureus kept looking at him from the corner of his eye, and Dorian soon grew tired of it.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Aureus?" He stopped to collect some elfroot, and the lion nuzzled his neck while he was at his height, cold nose leaving wet traces. Dorian smiled and patted him on the back.

"Are you anxious? Don't worry, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's reading old books to find information most forgot about."

Aureus huffed and shook his head.

"What then? Scared I won't do the right thing?" Dorian got back on his feet, tucked the herbs in his satchel. "Perish the thought, _mellitus,_ everything shall be fine."

"Will it?" A voice hushed from behind them, and Dorian turned around, his senses on alert. A man appeared from behind a tree where he’d been hidden by its dense leaves until now. A quick glance at Aureus let him know that the lion didn't know of his presence either.

"You intend on changing that, dear mysterious man?" Dorian refused to let show his apprehension. Meetings in the forest never really dwelled well. Two more men appeared, brandishing bows and aiming an arrow at the both of them. "Mysterious men, then."

"There is only one ending with witches like you," the first man sneered, revealing two daggers. Aureus took a step towards the two archers, growling in warning, but they didn't seem to understand the real danger.

"Burnt on the stake with your dog, for the fire will cleanse your soul."

Dorian chuckled darkly, a fireball growing in his palm. "How about it cleanses yours?"

The swish of air was his only warning before he cast a barrier on Aureus and him, evading the arrows, and he threw the fireball at the rogue who was charging at him. Aureus jumped on one of the rangers, his large body colliding hard and making them roll on the ground, behind a bush and out of Dorian's sight. The witch used his staff to avert his opponent's strike, already muttering another spell. Close combat never had been his forte, but those men didn't seem clever, to jump on a witch while knowing of his identity. Had they mistaken him for a simple herbalist who liked to mutter nonsense on top of his smoking cauldron?

He heard a crunch and a yelp from the bushes and knew Aureus had killed one, and he swiftly dodged another hit to get closer to the trio. He casted his spell and had a second to watch with satisfaction the reanimated corpse get on its feet before a boot crashed in his chest, rendering him on the ground completely breathless. He coughed, rolled on his stomach to scramble on his feet, but a weight on his back prevented him from any further movement.

"This is where you belong, in the dirt," the man whispered hotly in his ear, a hand yanking his hair hard. Dorian didn't hear as he was preparing a Mind Blast to get him off him, and he was sent against a tree. The reanimated corpse shot him an arrow in the head before crumpling back dead as Aureus was coming back, and it was over.

Dorian panted, struggling to get back on his back, but Aureus was there to support him. He appeared unharmed, which was a relief to the witch who knew close to nothing about healing spells.

"That was entertaining," he managed to wheeze. Aureus sniffed his hair, licked his cheek, and he stroked him before an ear. "I'm fine, I just need… air. How about you?"

Once he made sure Dorian could support himself, Aureus turned on him to show he was uninjured.

"Good. I'd hate to see you hurt because of my stupidity." The combat had left Dorian drained after the rush of adrenaline, he ached all over. He'd been distracted enough to not notice the lack of sounds but the unusual whistles. Witch hunters were few, and Dorian only had met a few over the years, but luckily they were as unprepared to his magic as the rest of the previous barbaric bunch.

After resting for a few minutes, he gathered the corpses together and summoned fire. He hoped it would open their shallow mind for their reincarnation.

"Let's get back, it's already late as it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puellus means little boy. Dorian just loves to give sweet names to Aureus that the latter doesn’t understand – especially because he's not sure the lion would like to be called honey or boy.
> 
> My tumblr: [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	5. Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a quote by Suzy Kassem, and as you could guess, there will be a lot of self-doubt in this chapter.  
> I also wanted to quickly thank you for all the kudoses and the comments. Feedback is always appreciated, since this is an AU where I take a lot of liberty, so feel free to tell me if you’d like me to include a character or have any suggestion, I’m always open to constructive criticism.

The rest of the way home went uneventful, to Dorian's relief. He was using his staff more as a walking cane, and Aureus stayed close by, just in case. He felt stupid, they'd taken him by surprise, and that had earned him no time to prepare any spell or to properly defend himself. He was lucky he had Aureus…

"I'm fine," he grumbled to the worried-looking lion. The ale hadn't helped, he now felt sleepy, so he fed Aureus once they arrived home before eating a quick meal of bread and cheese.

It wasn't the hate itself that angered him, it was the fact that a group would willingly gather and dedicate their life to hunt down individuals who were not dangerous unless provoked, solely based on popular fallacies and closed minds. It was a common belief that the witches' very lives were threatening to the average peasant, when some were already living among them without their knowledge.

It infuriated him than some didn't know how or couldn't defend themselves against such attacks, like he could. Tevinter at least trained the witches to their full potential without the fear they would take over the country, as a witch himself was already at its head. He would’ve understood if the reason of those attacks on his person was because he was from Tevinter, but he was fairly sure only a handful knew about his origins, which he was thankful for. He would sometimes receive the lovely visits of these individuals who wanted him tied to a stake and returned to ashes. So many perished that way, when they received no training like he had, and too often did he hear that non-witches were proclaimed as such. That Inquisition needed to stop, or it would be stopped, for hate only fueled more hate.

Dorian went to sleep quickly after eating, but he didn't sleep well. He dreamt of his parents. His mother always used to sit with him in their gardens, simply to read and drink with him, chatting about theories or the latest gossips. He missed those days, but his father would come in and the dream turned to a nightmare. He dreamt of blood and woke up with the metallic taste still on his tongue.

It was still pitch black outside, and Aureus was sleeping peacefully beside him, his breathing even and calming his short, erratic ones. A paw would often twitch, but he didn't stir when Dorian rose up to pick a book and came back to read it in bed with the help of a small wisp. It was about Tevinter tales, one he enjoyed reading when he was homesick or felt like shite. He installed himself on his stomach, hoping he'd be prompt to fall back asleep that way, but alas, he still was awake after a few chapters.

A weight fell on his shoulder as a warm body stirred against him, and he had a small smile at the fur tickling him and Aureus' purrs. His eyes weren't completely opened, but he seemed alert enough to wonder why Dorian was reading this late.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I had a nightmare and couldn't sleep after that." Aureus wasn't able to say anything to comfort him, but he brushed his head against Dorian’s, huffing in his hair, and his presence itself was enough. Dorian fell asleep some time later, his cheek on his opened book and drooling on it.

It was Aureus who woke him well past the middle of the day. He was ruffling his hair with his muzzle, tickling him. Dorian smiled as he opened his eyes, chuckling when Aureus moved and licked his neck.

That was a nice way to wake up, especially after the nightmares' remnants still fresh in his head. He refused to linger in that dejection a moment longer, he had someone to help, and basking in self-loathing wouldn't help bringing a solution.

He brought Solas' book outside after eating a light breakfast, Aureus roaming around while he read. Dalish culture always had been a subject he wished he'd given more time on, but necromancy already required most of his time back when he was in the Circle, and the library wasn't really filled with Elven books. The only elves he'd seen were slaves in Tevinter, and he preferred not to interact with the Dalish, for obvious reasons about their shared history.

Aureus installed himself in a patch of sunlit grass, against Dorian's bare shins. It was a hot day, the witch had rolled his breeches up and was wearing a light tunic he left unlaced at the front, leaving part of his chest bare. He was glad for the breeze and the shadow of the tree he was under, it was a hot summer day.

He smiled when Aureus' fur brushed his legs. Dorian wondered if all animals were supposed to be this cute, once you took a liking to them, or if Aureus was just particularly cute with his beautiful mane and fluffy ears that would twitch through his sleep at every sound. Dorian's eyes kept moving back to him, distracting him from his reading, but it was of note he was at some boring chapter about the whereabouts of a keeper and not at all on what he was looking for.

He skimmed through the large book, trying to find the part about vallaslins Solas showed him, but it was filled in Elven for the most, making it very depressing for Dorian to not understand what he was reading. He once found a spell able to translate any language into another one, he was asking himself where he'd seen that spell when Aureus suddenly woke up with a start. He smelled around before looking at Dorian insistently, groaning.

"Visitors?" He asked, closing his book. He knew the lion's senses were way better that his, and he trusted him. Aureus made another sound, which Dorian took for an affirmation.

"Alright,  _mellitus_. You can stay here, get a tan for me while I take care of business."

He was about to rise up, but stopped briefly to kiss his forehead after a short hesitation, smiling when Aureus licked his cheek in return. He returned inside the house through the back door to prepare himself to look as regal he knew he always was anyway. He quickly changed into his robes, and a quick spell took care of his hair and moustache. The living room was clean and ready for his guests, and he went outside as some of his glyphs detected humans nearby.

It was two women struggling with a heavy-looking bag. He watched with a raised eyebrow and dispelled the protections on their way. They seemed relieved to see him, but he didn't offer any help.

"Greetings, serah," one of the women said.

"Are you the Witch of the South?" The second asked, straight to the point.

"Are there talks of other handsome witches I'm not aware of?"

"Your charms are quite famous indeed, but we're not here for those." They were an odd duo. One had a sword strapped to her waist while the other preferred daggers and a tighter outfit, fit for moving quickly and discreetly.

He invited them inside. They were exhausted underneath their bravado, Dorian noticed as he looked at their dirty faces. The woman with the short hair gently put the bag on the table between them.

He didn't offer them anything, because he wasn't a witch with good manners, and they didn't ask for anything either.

"We heard you could resurrect people," the one with longer hair stated, looking at him expectantly instead of at the décor.

"We haven't properly introduced ourselves, forgive my friend. I'm Marian, and this is Elissa."

"Pleased to meet you, ladies. Let's cut to the chase, if you will." He rested his hip against the table, crossing his arms. "I own the ability to retrieve a soul from the Fade and put it back in its prison of bones and flesh, that is to resurrect people, as you're so reluctant to believe despite you coming all the way here."

His last statement was meant to Elissa who scoffed. Visibly her beliefs weren't the reason she had followed Marian from Andraste's knickers knew were.

"Well, you're in luck, because the flesh isn't gone from the bones yet." Marian bitterly admitted. With a gesture, she allowed Dorian to open the bag. The young woman inside had been dead for a week at most, which was short by Dorian's standards. He was used to work with a few months old bones, but this would be a lot easier.

He flew some of his magic inside the body. "She was your sister," he told Marian, who nodded. "What happened?"

"We were tracing someone for a contract and got ambushed," Elissa quickly related, her voice filled with pain.

"Contract? Are you mercenaries?"

"We are. Is this a problem?" Elissa asked with a frown, her hand already reaching for her sword.

"Not at all. It's just…" He was detecting a pull coming from the corpse, as if a part of the Fade was still connected to it. "What weapons did your sister prefer?"

He turned to Marian, his gaze intense, and she looked nervous for a second.

"Bethany was an archer, but sometimes…" Elissa and her exchanged a look before she continued. "Some strange things would happen."

"Mm." Dorian wasn't surprised by that. "She was a witch. Were you aware?" It was easy to recognize a fellow comrade, but he suspected they already knew when they barely blinked.

"I've always suspected, to tell you the truth," Marian softly admitted, eyes on her dead sister. "She always achieved tricks a simple archer never could do. Metal can't catch fire on its own, and arrows' destination can't be but straight ahead."

Dorian looked in the direction of the kitchen, where Aureus' head was peeking out. He gestured for him to stay there, but the lion stepped in the room.

"It's a common ability for witches to be able to play with elements," he quickly explained to divert the attention on him, but the animal was simply too big to stay unnoticed.

"Who's this?" Elissa's whole cold façade instantly melted, and her voice took a stupid edge every animal lover took when they talked to a pet.

"That's Aureus, he's my… familiar who's too curious for his own good." He glared at Aureus, he didn't want him to be mixed up with his business. He internally groaned when the two women approached the lion, but stayed wary of him. Aureus smelled them and allowed them to pet him before he came towards Dorian, his eyes unreadable. He took notice of the corpse on the table and sat so he could have a good view of what Dorian was about to do. 

“I can resurrect her, of course, but it’ll come with a price. Are you willing to pay it?”

“How much?” That was Marian.

“Fifty sovereigns now, fifty after it’s done.” He heard Aureus make a small noise behind him, like a scoff, but he ignored it.

“Deal. Get your wand and do your job now.”

Dorian tutted. “Wands are useless, witches use staves to focus their powers. Anyhow, I won’t need it for this ritual.”

He took the time to prepare the whole show, as he always did with his customers, when only a spell was needed. The spell he was using had been crafted by himself during his scholarship with his mentor Alexius when he was younger to stretch out the lifespan of the reanimated corpses, and at the time he hadn’t thought about actually using it, since it required a lot more of his mana that was recommended to use during a normal combat, and he didn’t think it was a good thing to always rely on lyrium. Ever since he started his little business, he simply would rest afterwards, to let his mana pool restore itself.

It was the first time he was reviving a Witch, the effects would vary from the usual, but it was a risk he was willing to take for so much gold. The wrath of two mercenaries wasn’t scaring him either, for he was a powerful necromancer, and only a few unlucky ones knew about the extent of his knowledge in the matter.

He saw Aureus stir when he cut open his palm, but he had to concentrate. The blood was just for show and wasn’t needed for his spell, but Aureus didn’t know that. It probably looked as if he was using dark magic to him. He’d deal with it later.

The spell quickly took hold of Bethany’s corpse and clung to her, connecting to that bit of Fade still present. Dorian watched with fascination magic revive her organs, force her heart to pump again blood through her veins. Life was mostly hurt, and her first breath was a painful one.

“Bethany,” Marian embraced her sister, delighted, and Elissa didn’t talk, but Dorian could see tears glimmer in her eyes. She paid him while Marian was already escorting her sister outside, and Dorian watched them leave with a pang of guilt he quickly dismissed.

Behind him, Aureus turned around and returned outside. Dorian put away the gold, cleaned the living room and made himself a snack before he sought out Aureus outside.

He was observing squirrels run around on branches, the sun dripping low at the horizon where they caught glimpses of it. Dorian sat down beside him and tentatively reached a hand to bury it in his mane.

“Are you feeling well?”

Aureus didn’t make any movement to indicate he’d heard him, but at least he didn’t shy away from his touch.

“Are you upset about my display earlier?”

When the lion didn’t budge, Dorian assumed he’d found the problem. “If you were wondering, I cut opened my palm only for show, it has no use in the spell and I already healed it. You knew I am a witch, yes? I resurrect people to live by, otherwise why do you think I live in the middle of nowhere? It’s not like…” Dorian didn’t finish what he wanted to say, didn’t mention that he’d rather live alone than be persecuted by other villagers simply for being born the way he had. He didn’t need his pity.

“If you’re really a human, then I don’t know what you were expecting by coming to see me…”

Again, no reaction. Dorian decided he was too fatigued from his spell to continue this one-sided conversation.

“Well, I’ll go wash myself, so I’ll be at the pond,”  _if you need me,_  Dorian refrained from adding. He hadn’t fallen low enough that he’d beg a human-turned-lion to stay with him. If he’d judged what the witch did was unbearable, then he’d leave and so it would be it. Dorian would only be ridden of him.

At least, that was what Dorian tried to convince himself while he bathed and shaved. The hot water eased his mind, he scoffed at himself for worrying so much. He hadn’t asked for Aureus’ company, he came to him for help, because apparently he was only good for that.

Hair still wet, he returned home. Aureus wasn’t inside, as expected, and Dorian let him be. He ate and continued to study the book with a bottle of red wine. He told himself it was because he was interested in the culture, but he knew well enough it was because he still wanted to help Aureus despite his mixed feelings. Such was life, he supposed; an eternal conflict from within.

He absorbed the information on the gods like lyrium, fascinated. He knew the Dalish worshipped multiple gods, but he never had the chance to learn more than this. He felt like he was back in the Circle, a young scholar yearning for knowledge. The next chapter was on Vallaslin. An explanation of the ritual to apply the tattoos seconded what Solas had previously told him, but there was nothing on removing them. There was the proceeding about modifying a Vallaslin, however, if the bearer felt no longer connected to that particular god, and it gave Dorian an idea. What if, by changing the mark, it removed Mythal’s power over Aureus?

The ritual required that the one performing it was familiar with both of the current and the desired marks, which wouldn’t be a trouble for Dorian. He would only need to study Mythal’s one, and he’d use his house’s as the new one while he looked for a permanent solution.

Dorian smiled, pleased he’d finally found a way to help Aureus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)


	6. Two-headed snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something magical is going to happen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun (random) fact: I'm on vacation this week and visited Salem today. I have a college diploma in history, so I love those kind of places, but the buildings and the scenery were a lot more interesting to see than the museums we visited to be honest. I kept making connections between the Witch Hunt and Dragon Age, for some reason.
> 
> Anyway, something probably most of you (including me) were waiting for is happening in this chapter. Enjoy!

Now that he finally discovered how to help Aureus, Dorian didn’t know how to tell him. He didn’t know if he was angry at him or not in the first place, so perhaps right away wasn’t the best time.

He decided to wait a bit, to see if Aureus would return. He changed in his night clothes and stayed in bed to continue his reading. He finished the wine bottle. The warmth of the fireplace mixed with the alcohol lulled him to sleep despite his will to stay awake, the book laying open on his chest.

He was awoken later by thunder. The book was squeezed underneath him, a patch of drool drying on his cheek and the pillow. He wiped that off with a groan and rolled over to put the book on the end table.

Seated by the fireplace, Aureus turned to look at him. He’d been caught by the storm, drenched and leaving water everywhere.

With a stretch, Dorian passed by him to close the back door that he kept open just for the lion. Water had beginning to gather on the floor, but a quick spell took care of the mess. He then took the same towel he used a few nights ago and draped Aureus in it.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asked, beginning to dry him. He smelled like a wet dog. He used another spell to warm up the towel, accelerating the process.

Aureus returned his gaze to the fire. Finally, he shook his head, his ears flicking.

Dorian continued to dry his fur in silence, and when he was done, Aureus turned around and placed his front paws on his lap to lick his cheek. Dorian grimaced and grumbled, but threw his arms around the lion and hugged him tightly. His fur was soft against his face” damp, warm and cozy. Aureus purred and clung his large body against him, rubbing his head against Dorian’s.

The witch didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. The lion understood him better than anyone, he knew some of his secrets and he couldn’t pretend that the thought of him soon being a human who could spill them didn’t scare him.

He had a dreamless night, waking up refreshed with Aureus wrapped against him, his golden eyes watching him. Dorian scratched the fuzzy white patch of fur on his chin, smirking when Aureus closed his eyes in bliss.

It would probably be one of the last times Dorian could do this. He doubted human-Aureus would be as affectionate or would appreciate being touched like that. He’d missed this.

“I found something,” he announced him softly, and Aureus perked up, his tail waving against his leg. He threw himself out of bed and roared until Dorian followed him.

“It’s right here.” Dorian took the time to explain to Aureus what he intended to do. He didn’t know what was the lion’s opinion on magic, but after seeing his reaction the previous day, the witch preferred not to take any chance. He made the explanations as clear as possible, but the spell would be simple enough.

“Are you willing to try this out?” Dorian finally inquired, closing the book. Aureus nodded, licking the back of his hand in earnest.

“I must warn you however, the transformation might be painful and even kill you.” He glided his hand on the shorter hair of his back, still as soft. “Also a human stomach doesn’t tolerate very well raw meat, so you can’t eat until after the ritual. I’ll need as much energy as possible, so I have to, but I’ll be quick.”

Dorian studied Mythal’s Vallaslin while he ate, but there was nothing he didn’t know already. It was frightening that, if these gods really existed, they already had minions ready to serve them, unwillingly perhaps, but who knew what they could do if they were released from their prison? Would they try to rebuild Arlathan, their lost paradise?

The witch prepared a few lyrium potions, just in case, and brought them to the living room, where he installed himself on the soft carpet beside the table so Aureus could join him. His large form took most of it, and he installed himself on his side to present his back leg to Dorian. The witch took his fluffy paw, running his thumb on the hard edges hiding his claws and the cute sprouts of hairs between them, his rough digital pads lightly scratching his palm.

“Ready?” Dorian’s smile was confident, not betraying his own doubts. It would work, and then what? Dorian stopped trying to think any further than this, for now wasn’t the time to focus on that.

The spell was simple, really, a few words in Elvish as his hands hovered above the mark on Aureus’ leg. He wasn’t expecting the amount of mana it took from him, nor the resistance he met at first, but he was a powerful and resilient witch, he finally passed through the barrier and it took merely a second to transform the Vallaslin into his family crest. A double-headed snake seated on a peacock tail.

Something snapped in Aureus, the sound resonating through Dorian’s own bones, and the lion roared in pain. He began to convulse, his limbs distorting at odd angles. Dorian had to step back to avoid a smack to the face. Fur and skin were peeling off Aureus like a snake sloughing its skin as his form contorted and elongated, and underneath it all was ivory extending and stretching to cover human-shaped organs, muscles and bones.

The man was built strong, the body of a soldier, muscles bulging with ease as the transformation came to its completion. His gaze fell on one of those deliciously muscled thighs. The black Pavus crest was a stark contrast against the pale skin, which was dusted with scars of battles.

He laid on his back in a bed of golden fur, the color the same as his long curly hair, and stopped moving. Only his steady breathing assured Dorian he was still alive.  

Dorian leaned over and couldn’t help but notice how handsome his face was as well, despite the serious beard happening. He placed his hand on his forehead, finding the temperature normal. Heavy-lidded golden eyes opened at the gesture, and Dorian smiled at him to ease his worry.

“How are you feeling?”

Aureus opened his mouth, but wasn’t able to speak except for a grunt.

“Ah, yes. I suppose you won’t be able to properly speak for a little while, depending of how long you’ve been a lion. Help me get you into bed, where you’ll rest more comfortably.”

Aureus looked heavier than Dorian, and despite being strong, the latter wasn’t sure he could lift that much weight. Aureus didn’t protest and they made their way to the bedroom, successfully putting him to bed. Dorian made sure he was covered up to the neck before disappearing into the kitchen to fetch the pitcher of water along with a goblet. He felt dizzy himself, so he gulped down a lyrium potion on his way back to the bedroom.

“Here.”

Aureus’ hand trembled when he took the goblet full of water, but he managed not to spill it anywhere as he drank greedily. Dorian settled it on the end table, along with his empty potion bottle.

“Does this look like your original body?”

Aureus moved his finger down a scar on his right forearm, nodding, then pointed at his long hair and unruly beard. Dorian chuckled and ran his hand in the curly strands. He personally liked it very much, the way his hair would spring back into its shape once he let go of it. He ran his hand once more through, noticing the way Aureus enjoyed the gesture.

“We’ll get rid of that soon, if it bothers you.”

Aureus blinked tired eyes at him and squeezed his forearm in reply, his hand warm and callous. It didn’t take long before he fell asleep, his face smoothing out of anxious lines, and Dorian wondered how old he was. Looking this relaxed, he didn’t look much older than him.

He turned to the mess on the floor. He supposed Aureus wouldn’t want anything to do with his past animal form, even though the fur could be made into a warm cape, so he simply put it all into a bag to deal with later.

He occupied himself for the next few hours, putting out some clothes for Aureus to wear and starting to prepare a stew for the both of them. The silence was almost unbearable, but at least the birds were singing through the opened window and he could hear the various forest’s sounds. There was no soft padding sounds on the wooden floor to indicate Aureus was walking around to follow Dorian, no fluffy head pressing against his hand looking to be stroked or resting against his hip. Frankly he’d miss the company after years of living on his own. He’d quickly grown used to living with a pet, and Aureus always had been difficult to ignore in such a small house.

It was big enough for a solitary witch, with the kitchen, bedroom and living room where he received his clients, but it was nothing compared to his parents’ house where he lived throughout most of his life with the exception of the months he spent in various Circles when he was a teenager. At least he could go outside whenever he wanted. He liked spring and summer down in the South, even autumn. The temperature was colder, but the new colors decorating the forest were worth it.

There wasn’t much for him to do when he didn’t have customers, and people rarely used the road in front of his house, so he usually liked to take sunbath while reading. His skin wasn’t this beautiful shade for any reason, after all. He’d tried to grow a garden once, without success. He would drown the plants or leave them to die. Staying close enough to a village had the advantage that he could go there for his food. His clothes were another matter, but he befriended a few merchants who would import anything he asked for, for the right price.

There was also a tub in the storage room outside that he used when it was too cold outside for his tastes. He brought it inside, careful to not wake Aureus, but he quickly realized he was sleeping like a log when he bumped in the door with it. Dorian filled the tub with water and warmed it up with magic. The rune carved at the bottom would keep the water hot. He was pouring some oils in the bath when Aureus stirred, his attractive face frowning. Not that Dorian was looking, mind you. He was confused for a moment, probably asking himself where he was, before his eyes settled on Dorian.

“I prepared a bath for you.”

Aureus licked his dry lips, already getting out of bed, his curly hair gently sweeping back and forth against his shoulder blades. His legs were stiff, but he managed to stagger to the bath on his own. He sighed with relief once he was settled in the hot water, smiling at Dorian who occupied himself with setting up his shaving kit on the small table beside him to not devour the handsome man with his eyes. The tub wasn’t big enough for his tall frame, he had to tug his legs against his chest, but he seemed content enough.

“I got you my shaving kit as well, so you can free yourself of that beard.”

Dorian tried his best not to fidget under Aureus’ gaze, intense despite the fact he’d just waken up, pale lashes framing those lovely gilded eyes. He quickly squeezed one of those broad shoulders, the warmth of his skin nice against his cold fingers.

“I’ll leave you to- What is it?” Aureus was tugging him back with a gentle hand, gesturing at his beard, then at the razor. It only took a second for Dorian to understand.

“You wish for me to shave you?”

Aureus nodded, looking at him the same with that same puppy look he had all those nights ago. Dorian internally sighed.

“Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)


	7. Bound to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I was working on something else for the last two weeks, and you should know I have the speed of a snail when it comes to writing with my attention problems. It will be revealed soon, so fear not! In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Go check the first chapter to see the awesome fanart Mica Sky made for the story!

Aureus washed himself while Dorian prepared the shaving foam with practiced gestures. He struggled with his long locks, but he managed. Dorian tried not to be distracted by the sight, without much success. Those muscles were already beautiful to look at, they were fascinating with water and oils coating his pale skin.

“Lean back for me.” Dorian installed himself behind him. Aureus rested his neck against the curved edge of the tub, looking at him through damp lashes. He had to cut what he could with the scissors he normally used for his moustache, otherwise the razor wouldn’t be able to glide along the skin. He spread the foam generously, working it in the hairs. Aureus went to say something, which only resulted in a breathy hitch. He frowned, visibly frustrated.

Dorian chuckled and took the razor. “During my first winter in the South, I got really sick. The kind of disease nobody get in Tevinter because it’s never cold, let alone seeing any hint of snow. I never experimented it nor witnessed such illness before so when my throat began to hurt and I thought fire would burst from me without the use of magic, I didn’t know what to do.”

He gently pulled Aureus’ chin towards him for the skin to be tight under the sharp knife, his arm wrapped around his neck so he could have better access.

“I was stuck to my bed for two days, hallucinating that I was back in Tevinter, the worst nightmare. Luckily elfroot tea is the universal remedy, and mixed with honey, I drank only that even though I despised the taste. The fever diminished, but I began to cough and snot all over the place, you Fereldan must know the drill…”

He stopped talking to change side, now half of Aureus’ jaw hairless. A well-defined jaw, he observed.

“The worst happened when someone knocked on my door with their dead baby while I was still sick. It’s a bit difficult to do business when you can’t even talk, as I quickly discovered. I could only squeak at best. The lad must have thought I was evil, for I didn’t say anything even as he begged me on his knees. Now, don’t move, and stop laughing, my story is no jesting matter.”

Aureus promptly closed his mouth, but Dorian could see the amusement on his face. There was something intimate about the way Aureus allowed him to use a sharp object on him, the way he offered his throat without hesitation, his eyes turning to Dorian's face as the latter focused his attention on his shaving, the razor gliding smoothly across the skin.

“You must think this is funny, a Tevinter being sick from the cold for the first time and almost dying because of it. I’ll have you know that man claimed I was crazy and promptly ran away.”

He cleaned the foam residues on the freshly-shaved face, satisfied with his completed task.

“My point is that I finally retrieved my voice, and so will you. Tell me, how many years did you spend as a lion?”

Aureus blinked and shook his head.

“What if I told you the year is 9:44?”

Aureus gasped, raising up in the tub with water splashing everywhere. Dorian had a nice view of his shaped bullocks before he was hastily wrapping the towel around his waist.

“Aureus, how many?”

Of course, the blond didn’t reply, putting on the clothes Dorian had prepared for him. He grunted when the fabric stuck on his wet skin. He was visibly in distress, no rational thought except for the need to return to Andraste’s tits knew where.

“Where are you going?” Dorian watched him without daring to stop him, but when Aureus went for the door, he put himself in front of him and pressed a hand on his chest for him to stop. He knew the man was more powerful than him, that he could easily overpower him, but it didn’t matter, because Aureus stopped.

“Where do you think you’re going, Aureus? You can’t even talk, you don’t have any money, and Haven is hours away. Think, _mellitus._ ”

The nickname came out by accident, but it seemed to calm Aureus down. He was breathing hard, the fabric of his tunic stretching taunt at each inhale, and his heart beating fast against Dorian’s hand. He exhaled loudly, hiding his face from Dorian with his wet hair. He held up three fingers.

“I see…” He suspected Aureus had been a soldier with quite a high rank, hence his panic at the notion he’d wasted all this time. He must have been considered dead or a deserter at this point.

He took his hand, squeezing it gently. Aureus mouthed ‘Thank you’, already looking calmer. Dorian smiled.

“You must be starving, and I’m a bit peckish myself.”

He already missed the warm contact as soon as he removed his hand, but quickly dismissed the feeling. After they ate, Dorian retrieved an ink-free book that he normally used to store his new spells, with a nib and ink. Aureus lit up at the sight, and he picked the nib to write something on the paper.

His handwriting had suffered a bit over the years, or always had been a little shaky, but it was still readable.

_ My name is Cullen Rutherford. _

“Cullen Rutherford. A charming name, almost as charming as Aureus. It suits you.”

To his pleasant surprise, Cullen’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. He wrote something else.

_ Thank you for everything. _

“Mmph.” Dorian clicked his tongue. “I hope you’re aware I’m not doing this for free.”

Cullen tensed, frowning.

“Stand up and do three steps.”

With a baffled look, Cullen obeyed him. Dorian smirked, cocky.

“The mark I put on you was a temporary solution so you could retrieve your human form. By doing so, you became bound to me.”

Cullen’s hands were balled into fists. He strode over to Dorian, menacing.

“However,” the witch added, placing a hand before him to stop Cullen. “I don’t intend to use that power over you. I don’t want to own a slave, now or never, so I promise you I won’t order you anything. It was the only solution I had at the moment, and you can’t say you didn’t benefit out of it.”

Cullen’s glare lost of its fire. He turned around and went to write something down.

_ What are your terms then? _

“I’ll search to remove the mark, but in the meanwhile, you’ll stay here and help me. You were willing as a lion, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want now that you’re a human again. Unless you were planning to use me and then leave?”

He was right. Cullen’s face changed, torn between two emotions.

“I believe my statement is correct.”

Dorian was angry, but worst of all, he was disappointed. He sighed, knowing he’d been harsh on Cullen but didn’t exactly care at the moment. He returned to the bedroom and grunted at the sight of the mess. He cleaned the floor with a spell and was about to levitate the tub outside when Cullen appeared beside him and lift it up. Dorian was about to protest, but the sight of his flexing muscles made him close his mouth.

Without a word, he dispelled the wards and showed him the storage room. It was odd for Dorian to watch someone else clean his house for him. He let Cullen do his thing, curling up in his comfortable couch and reading with some wine. He liked to keep everything relatively clean, but Cullen made the house spotless. He suspected it was an excuse to move as well, to not focus on whatever dark thoughts kept eating at him. He wasn’t used to his human limbs anymore, dropping objects and bumping into furniture, but by the end, he looked more at ease.

He crashed beside Dorian after a few hours, content to simply lay down and not move anymore. His blond hair had dried in soft-looking curls falling on his shoulders.

“I would think you were a servant before and not a soldier.”

Cullen scoffed, wrote in the book.

_ What makes you think I’m a soldier? _

“Your build, the way you hold yourself, the scars. I’ve been around enough soldiers to know how they look. Unless you were a soldier disguised as a handsome servant?”

Cullen rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his scarred lips.

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me, you know.”

_ I’m willing to help _ .

“This doesn’t mean you have to overexert yourself as soon as you recover your body.”

Cullen averted his eyes, scratched the back of his neck before he replied.

_ Things changed in three years. _

Dorian chewed his lip, then offered his cup to him.

“People continued to live despite your absence, I’m afraid. You can send letters on our next trip to Haven if you want. Where were you stationed?”

It took a minute for Cullen to show him his reply, and when he did, Dorian laughed in disbelief.

“Skyhold? You’re from the Inquisition? This is brilliant.”

He stole back his glass and gulped down the remaining wine.

“Are you the Inquisitor himself?”

_ I ~~am~~ was the commander. _

“This is fucking great. I’m helping someone who kills my kind. _Vishante kaffas._ ”

He realized he was literally fuming, fire and electricity building up in his hands. He forced his magic back inside, glad his mana hadn’t completely replenished yet, otherwise the living room might not have any more rug.

“How does it feel, to know that your fate remains in a witch’s hands? Aren’t you happy you haven’t killed us all yet, or were you planning on finishing the task once you’re free?”

Cullen stood up.

_ That wasn’t my intention. _

“What were you planning, then?”

_ I didn’t think that far, but I would never hurt you. _

“That’s reassuring,” Dorian mumbled, but less upset. “Is this why you stayed three years as a lion?”

Cullen scratched a few times his reply, hesitant on what to say. _ ~~That~~_ _ ~~It~~_ _I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t easy finding you either._

Dorian started to say something, then refrained himself with a frown. “Having trouble finding me is exactly what I intended, especially from the Inquisition. I fear that any further conversation on the subject will lead us nowhere until you retrieve your voice. I deserve a better explanation.”

He needed another drink.

Cullen left him alone after that, retreating outside with a frustrated expression. As long as they couldn’t properly communicate, Dorian preferred to wait. All of that was putting him in a sour mood, but at least he had control over Cullen, if it ever came to this. Three years living as a lion must have changed a person, and despite knowing he once had been the commander of the Inquisition, he couldn’t imagine him as such.

To Dorian, he was Aureus, his lion who hadn’t thought twice before jumping on a bandit to defend him and who liked to snuggle against him and lick his face at random times. Dorian wondered how much his demeanour would change and felt a bit sad he wouldn’t have an extra blanket of fur with him at night anymore.

The sun had disappeared, and his other bottle of wine was empty again. It wasn’t until he rose up from his seat that he realized he might’ve been more drunk than intended. He laughed at the thought, thinking that the whole situation was hilarious. He staggered to his bedroom, the world spinning around him.

A strong arm encircled his waist and kept him upright. He leaned against Cullen who helped him to get in bed.

“Aren’t I supposed to be angry at you, or vice versa? This situation between you and I is rather confusing.”

Cullen chuckled, and this time actual sounds came out of his mouth. He covered him with the blankets. The pillow smelled faintly of him, a scent he’d unconsciously grew accustomed to over the last days. He fell asleep with it, his mind swirling pleasantly with the help of the wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)


	8. Strapping looking lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of history before you begin this chapter. I was largely inspired by the Spanish Inquisition for this AU, like I took the fact the jews were accused for basically anything around that time and applied it for the witches in this story. If that wasn’t clear enough either, Tevinter don’t fear or stigmatize witches, but are still close-minded about sexual and gender identity - or lack of.
> 
> Plot-wise, this story was first supposed to be a one-shot about Dorian lifting the curse off Cullen. Of course with seven chapters in already, I revised the plot ever since and am adding other elements, but I still want to focus on them. The story is slow-paced for the moment, but stuff will happen. I just really like to write fluff, especially with these two. 
> 
> Lastly, if you haven't seen yet the beautiful artwork Mica Sky on Tumblr made me, I strongly suggest you go back to the first chapter to check it out.

Dorian walked through the Fade during his sleep, demons lurking around him, thinking he was an easy prey with his intoxicated mind. Dorian easily ignored and dismissed them, baffled when one actually took the appearance of Cullen. The witch found him gorgeous, but the real Cullen never smirked at him with a smug look before, shirtless and leathers hanging low on his hips. He closed his eyes and banished the desire demon back to the Void where it belonged.

Now that he was free to roam, he tried to contact one of the only friends he had.

“Dorian?” Felix turned away from the spirit he was discussing with, a spirit of compassion, and hugged him without hesitation.

“I missed you,” Dorian smiled and hugged him back. “I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but I needed to talk to you.”

“Is everything alright?” Felix was immediately concerned. They always kept contact after Dorian left Tevinter, but it usually was through letters. Seeking someone through the Fade was like invading their privacy, a window on their most intimate thoughts and fears, and Dorian would rather not do that.

“I’m fine, Felix, I’m more worried about you.” Even in the Fade, his skin was uneven with red spots, his fingers dark and distorted.

“I’m weaker than before, despite father’s efforts to keep the disease at bay,” Felix admitted. It wasn’t common and would handicap someone for the rest of their life, render their organs useless until they became a breathing corpse.

“How are you holding up?” He imagined some luxurious scenery from the Imperium and it appeared all around them, even the wind and the small animals. They sat in the grass, the sun warming the back of their neck.

“I can do everything except leaving the house. The furniture was arranged so I wouldn’t injure myself. I have a lot of spare time to find a cure.”

Dorian squeezed his friend’s hand, knowing he wasn’t even allowed such contact anymore. Leprosy was highly contagious, one touch was all it took, let alone the pain it’d cause to the leper.

“What about you? There must be something important for you to seek me out in the Fade.”

“Oh, you won’t believe me, _amicus._ ” He told him everything about his situation with Cullen, leaving the part about how he now found the man very attractive.

“He was the commander of the Inquisition yet sought you out?” Felix pondered out loud, confused.

“The way I see it, he couldn’t find help anywhere else.”

“And you used a modifying spell to give him back his human form?”

“It was the only solution I found.”

“Why not cut the skin?” Felix asked with a raised brow, and Dorian scoffed.

“Of course, then add it to my soup to feed the children I keep caged in my cellar. _Kaffas,_ I didn’t turn into a savage since I left Tevinter.”

“My apologies, but you take the bait quite easily.”

Dorian clicked his tongue in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter. I need your help with something.”

Felix regarded him for a moment and smiled. It was a fortunate sight, for he endured so much pain on a daily basis.  “You care for the man.”

“Oh, by Andraste’s flaming knickers, how are you able to see so well through me?” Now Dorian was pouting, because Felix only needed less than five minutes with him to figure out feelings he’d tried to deny ever since he met the human version of Aureus, or Cullen.

“Right, back to business then. If it really was that Mythal who put a spell on your _friend_ ,” he made an emphasis on the last word, and Dorian shot him a warning look, which only made him repress a laugh. “Then I believe the mark is stronger than a normal Vallaslin. Your magic won’t be powerful enough to withstand hers for long.”

“I thought about that, yes, that’s why I need you to—“ Dorian turned around, but there was no one. He was sure he heard someone call his name.

“You want me to find a solution while you distract yourself with the commander?”

Dorian turned back to Felix and scoffed. “It’s more complicated than that. You have better access to Dalish books than I do, despite the fact almost all elves are collared where you live. I know someone who might have some information, but I thought of you as well hard enough to find you in my dreams, it appears.”

Felix looked pleased. “Of course I’ll help. I’ll keep you informed if I find anything.” He rose and took a few steps back. “I’m waking up. Take care of yourself, Dorian.”

“And you try not to die.”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian.” Felix tilted his head and disappeared. Dorian wished he could be there for his best friend, but there was nothing he could do. No one had found a cure to leprosy yet. The South was too busy with its witch hunt to focus on what really mattered. Some believed witches were the cause of leprosy, which was ignorant thinking as they could get the disease too.

Seeing Felix had been comforting, their friendship the only thing that remained after he left Tevinter. His birthright was traded before he’d taken place on a ship across the Waking Sea, for a satisfying pouch of gold and silvers, and he’d lost the staff he received when he was named enchanter after a brutal fight against some Templars. One of them had managed to grab the staff and snap it in pieces, thinking he’d be defenseless that way. How wrong he had been. His current staff wasn’t adapted for him, better suited for ice spells.

He was left alone in the false Tevinter scenery. It was peaceful, a heartwarming difference with his previous nightmares. The Fade was an odd place, without definite rules and illogical most of the time, as it was the realm of dreams and spirits, but Dorian had learnt when someone was trying to contact him, for a better way of explaining it. His father had attempted a few times to invade his dreams, but Dorian had treated him the same way he did for demons. With fireballs.

He could feel spirits all around, a common feat, but there was someone else too whose energy felt familiar. Were they the one who called him previously? He began to scan his surroundings, but he woke up before he could investigate any further.

He forgot about it as he felt the tears that dampened the soft hair at his temple. He’d cried for Felix without realizing.

His body felt heavy, his brain mushy. The wine’s side effects. At least he wasn’t shivering, miserable with cold feet; in fact, his feet were quite warm, like the rest of his body. Perhaps that had to do with the body spooning him from behind, soft breaths tickling the back of his neck. Cullen was loosely embracing him with one arm, his hand curled around Dorian’s forearm.

Dorian should have felt trapped, confined, but he didn’t. Loneliness was not a companion he cherished, and laying in bed with someone for the simple act of sleeping had been a rare occurrence in his life, if it ever happened. Never knowing how it felt like before, he quickly became used to cuddling with Aureus at night, soft purrs lulling him to sleep, and he would not refuse a blanket when he was so cold.

Instead of fighting it, he drank some water from the cup placed by his bedside, shifted a bit before returning to sleep, content. He’d later blame it on the hangover to ease his mind.

He woke up a few hours later, feeling better. He blinked, his vision blurry, and idly took note his head had been resting against Cullen’s strong thigh whose back was leaning against the headboard. He was reading a book, the one Solas lent him.

“Good morning,” Dorian croaked out once he cleared his throat. He sat up and accepted the cup Cullen offered him with a small smile, drinking greedily. “Have you been awake for long?”

Cullen shook his head, but his focused expression on him proved otherwise. Dorian didn’t mention it, instead focusing on the book.

“It’s a bit of a bore, if you ask me, you might not be entertained.” Cullen shrugged his broad shoulders. Some of his hair was hiding his face, so Dorian fixed it without thinking, brushing the curls behind his shoulder. Intent eyes met, and they stared at each other for a moment. Cullen tidied his moustache for him, rolling one end up with a small smile that reached his unfaltering gaze. Dorian had to look away, taking care of fixing his facial hair himself.

“We ought to do something about your hair,” he said to diffuse the awkward silence. “I’ll find you something to tie it up for the time being.”

He gave him one of his necklaces made with a leather cord before going to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He noted with a mix of gratefulness and annoyance that Cullen had already prepared a meal for him.

“You really don’t need to do this,” he sighed at Cullen when he emerged from the bedroom. He still ate everything, but only because he was hungry.

_ You did it for me, _ __ was Cullen’s reply, scribbled in his notebook.

Dorian hummed. “Because I thought you were a stray animal at the time.” He took a look in the pantries and frowned at their empty state. “How do you feel about a trip to Haven today? We need to get you some clothes anyway, maybe an armor and a weapon?”

Cullen agreed, and so off they were. He didn’t tell him, but Dorian also brought his lion fur. He wasn’t sure if the clothier could make a cloak out of it, but he sure didn’t want to let it rot in his house, it was too beautiful to go to waste.

Dorian had to fight on his own when they stumbled upon some bandits, but he could see how the blond man wished he could help. He didn’t know if he should’ve felt insulted or flattered. Visibly Cullen was grateful for his help, but Dorian was still unsure of what he really felt about their current situation. Communication was mostly one-sided for the moment, with Dorian telling him stories and Cullen listening, trying to express his reactions with monosyllabes.

Dorian let him choose his weapon and armor once they were at the shop, as he had no knowledge in the matter, instead choosing to ask the smith if he could craft him a staff. The latter snarled and spat on the ground at his question, which made Cullen growl low at the man, his lion protective instincts kicking in. The witch threw him a look that meant to let it go, gave him some gold, and went off to buy food instead. He knew what he wanted, so that didn’t take long, and he was able to get a fair price for a cloak made out of Aureus’ fur. He would have to collect it back on their next visit.

Cullen came back wearing a shiny new heavy armor, similar to the Templar’s, with a sword to his hip and a shield strapped to his back. He would’ve looked intimidating if not for the lopsided smile he gave Dorian once he spotted him.

“My, you’re a strapping looking lion now, aren’t you?”

Cullen patted his chest plate in agreement before retrieving his notebook and scribbling something in it.

_ Could you buy some seeds as well? _

Dorian found the request odd, but did so and gave the pouch to Cullen who tied it to his belt. They headed in the direction of Solas’ house. He showed him the notepad on which he’d written something during the transaction.

_ There’s a good spot beside the house for a garden. _

“Feel free to grow crops, if you wish to. I once tried it myself, but I’m afraid this is one talent I don’t have.”

_ I shall rectify that soon. _

“Really? You’ll make me dig my pretty hands in dirt?”

_ Not if you don’t wish to. Couldn’t you do something about it? _ __ By something, he meant magic, but he wasn’t a fool to write that down in a public area.

“Mm, perhaps, but alas I never studied herbalism, I always preferred to learn how to manipulate the dead rather than to grow life. It might be because of my family’s history, when I think about it.” Dorian knocked on Solas’ door.

“Greetings, Solas.” The elf didn’t seem surprised to see him or Cullen. One glance sufficed, Dorian was sure. He was too wise not to put the puzzle pieces together, and Cullen was faintly echoing Dorian’s magic because of the mark. “I came to give you back your book.”

“I’m glad it helped you to solve your problem.” Solas accessed Cullen with a neutral face before he finally nodded at him.

“A temporary solution, unfortunately.” 

Solas turned back his attention on him. His expression softened. “If you request my assistance once again, you know where to find me.”

“I appreciate it.”

_ Me as well, _ hastily wrote Cullen, smiling.

“Having trouble with your voice? You might consider tea with honey and lemon,” Solas said with amusement. They were still standing before his opened door, visible to anyone, and with Solas not publicly known as a witch, Dorian had no desire to endanger his friend’s life with his presence.

Dorian suspected the problem wasn’t physical, so he snorted at Solas’ rare display of sense of humor and bid him farewell, remembering they still needed to find clothes and better shoes for Cullen, so they returned to the markets.

He disregarded how lighter his pouch felt once that was done, but his little business was giving him plenty of gold already, and it wasn’t like he was living an expensive life anyway.

Cullen spotted something at one of the stalls, turning his back to Dorian, and the witch noticed he hadn’t removed the charm off the leather cord he used to tie his hair. A golden snake hid in the midst of blond curls, tiny malachite eyes barely visible.

“You play chess?” Dorian asked once he saw what distracted him. He wasn’t really surprised, truth be told. Commanding an army required quite the strategic mind after all. Cullen looked at Dorian, using the same hopeful look he used all those nights ago.

“Ugh.” His hand dug once more in his coin pouch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Amicus_ = friends
> 
> My tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)


	9. Creating the disaster within

The next day, Cullen turned the soil for the garden, creating a tidy spot right against one of the sides of the house by using the remains of Dorian’s failed attempt. Dorian heard the sounds of his shovel all day long as he stayed inside to brew a few batches of healing poultices. It wasn’t something he was used to hear but he didn’t mind, and Cullen needed an excuse to do physical exercise – not that Dorian would mind giving him a suggestion or two on what they could do together.

Once Cullen was finished for the day, the witch refused to let him enter in the house before he cleaned himself, covered with dirt as he was.

They went together at the pond, a first time since Cullen was transformed back to a human. Dorian didn’t mind as they both had seen each other naked before, but he noticed the glances Cullen would sneak at him, more specifically to the tattoo of a snake running from the side of his neck down to his side to finish at his hip with another head instead of a tail. With its two heads and the peacock colors incorporated to the usual scales, it was quite eye-catching.

Cullen was uncomfortable at first to ask, but after they washed and were happy to soak in, he slid towards him and pointed at it with questioning eyes. Once Dorian nodded, he gently brushed a digit along one of the snake’s heads, the only part poking out of the water, its eyes the color of malachite.

“It was a gift I offered myself when I turned twenty,” Dorian told him with a smile, suppressing a shiver as the fingers idly continued to trace the tattoo. “As you may know, it’s part of my family’s crest, but my father was disapproving of body modifications, so I did this to spite him.” He had a fit once he discovered it. Dorian smiled at the memory. “Do you like it?”

Cullen made an approving sound, but when Dorian turned his head, he was looking at Dorian’s face instead.

They spent the next days in a routine. Cullen continued the garden while Dorian pretended to read and take sunbaths to observe him. He noticed he would sometimes hum at himself to exercise his voice. Dorian doubted it was only a physical problem, but it wouldn’t hurt to try any mean possible. He didn’t know how he could help for that matter, he wished he did, but this was something Cullen had to take care on his own.

Cullen didn’t ask for his help for the creation of the garden, but once the seeds were planted and ready to grow, Dorian wouldn’t mind watering it in the morning, after he’d woken up with the man wrapped around him. They hadn’t discussed their sleep arrangement, preferred for it to stay a silent agreement. He still didn’t know if the small touches during the day were from the Aureus part of him, or if they were genuine, confusing him even further more in the mess that’d became his feelings.

Living with such a beautiful man was hard for him, literary at times that his body would decide to betray his attraction. More times than he would admit, he’d told Cullen he had to relieve himself, only to hide in the forest and unfasten the laces of his breeches to release his painful hard-on. Forehead pressed against the rough bark of a tree, he’d jerk himself off at a fast, almost rough pace, his balls already tight with the need for release. It helped with the physical need, but not the mental ache.

He was beginning to yearn for Cullen, for his touch and attention, and this was dangerous. Cullen was still recovering, the loss of his voice only one of the few problems encountered. His mood would sometimes change, darkening for no apparent reason, and he’d storm off rather than hurt Dorian. The latter suspected it was his way of coping with everything that happened to him, when the memories would overtake him, so he tried not to take it personally, but it was difficult not to be hurt when he wouldn’t even take the time to reassure the witch with at least a note.

He’d still clean everything and do other chores, and there was nothing Dorian could say to dissuade him. He began to train as well, at least once a day. A dummy was made out of sticks, grass and a cloth bag. Of course it didn’t withstand for long, so Dorian offered to reinforce it magically, only to be encouraged to train with the warrior instead.

They went to a clearing nearby the house for that. Cullen was rusty, but his moves reflected his life spent as a soldier, his sword was like an extension of himself. Dorian didn’t need to ask to know he’d been a Templar for most of his life.

Sparring together became an interesting game. Dorian wouldn’t use his whole spectrum of spells, he didn’t want to injure Cullen, and using his staff for close combat was a nice change. He found himself on the ground many times, but Cullen would always help him up and show him how to block or dodge or counterattack. He even showed him the basics with a sword, and Dorian showed him how to handle a staff, which Cullen was quick to use properly.

“You truly were a commander,” Dorian remarked, wincing as his posterior throbbed from the impact it just underwent.

Cullen nodded, discarding his weapon for a moment to write down.

_ You’re not using your full capacities. _

“You disapprove of me being a Mortalitasi, I doubt you’d appreciate me casting horror on you.”

Cullen was frowning as he wrote his reply, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face to fall onto his already dampened shirt, bare forearms glistening under the sun.

_ I don’t disapprove, I don’t know much about it. Try me. _

Dorian smirked at the challenge, tightening his hold on his staff.

“As you wish.”

Cullen grinned at him, taking a defensive stance once more. They’d been at it for more than an hour, but Dorian enjoyed it. His shirt clung to his chest, his hair probably a mess, but his eyes were sparkling when they met Cullen’s. He wouldn’t use all of his necromancer spells, only a few to give Cullen a taste. He began with a wall of flames, through which the warrior walked without injuries nor hesitation, blade lift up. Dorian swiftly dodged, casting a horror on him. The reaction was always different, but Cullen fought through his terror with a snarl, chasing away the spirit.

He met Dorian’s staff with his blade and summoned a pillar of light right as Dorian put up a Barrier on himself, the spell bouncing on it. With every spell, the warrior was able to fight through it, using back a few of his own, until Dorian’s fireballs were extinguished with his connection to the Fade silenced. It wasn’t the first time he was silenced, but it still wasn’t pleasant, like white noise and darkness in the back of his head where it used to be colorful with soft musical chimes. Soon they were only using their weapons.

Dorian yelped when Cullen suddenly hit the back of his knees, making him stumble and fall backwards, only he tried to catch himself with Cullen’s wrist. Somehow the weapons were pushed away as they both tumbled down in a lump of limps and Tevene curses. Dorian’s breath was knocked out of him by Cullen’s weight, something sharp digging into his back. Cullen pushed himself on his hands with concerned eyes.

“That’s not how I imagined you to be on top of me,” he wheezed, lifting himself on one forearm to dislodge the rock in his back. Cullen blushed, but his gaze didn’t leave Dorian’s right away as he helped him up. They deemed it was enough training for one day, and they returned at the house to get their bath kit, eager to wash off the sweat and dirt. The warm water eased the ache in Dorian’s limbs and the discomfort in his back, but Cullen saw his wince when he shifted and slowly rotated his shoulders to lessen the pain. He gestured for him to turn around before grabbing the soap, lathering his large hands with it.

“Are you offering to wash my back?” Dorian asked for good measure, already turning around. He groaned when Cullen began to wash him, probing around to find the source of his discomfort. He finally found it, a bundle of nerves disturbed by the rock or a false movement. He bit his lip to keep from moaning at Cullen’s ministrations, he couldn’t remember when he’d last received a massage, and Cullen was really good at what he was doing. HIs hands were powerful and self-assured and using just the right amount of strength. He slowly eased the knots in his back, his hands moving down his spine, then up to focus on his shoulders. The witch couldn’t stop a deep sigh of contentment, his head dropping forward against his chest.

“You’re turning me to goo,” he said slowly, which made Cullen laugh. Combined with the previous physical experience, Dorian was ready to fall asleep. He shook himself awake and grasped Cullen’s hand for him to stop. “Thank you, I feel much better now.”

He turned around, offering to return the favor, but Cullen only accepted to have his hair washed with a sheepish look. He still loved for it to be stroked or brushed, a weakness Dorian often exploited. Cullen almost purred when Dorian massaged his scalp longer than necessary, smiling at him with molten gold eyes once he was done.

“All done. Now, I’ll leave before turning into a dry plum.”

Cullen liked to stay longer to swim around, even if the pond wasn’t much larger than his height. Dorian got out, quickly drying himself before stepping into his clothes. He turned back to Cullen to let him know he was returning to the house, only to notice how red Cullen’s cheeks were, his blush going all the way down to his chest disappearing in the water. Had he been checking him out? Maybe it wasn’t only the Aureus part of him who liked him, after all.

Dorian pondered on the way back home. He had no clue how to deal with the situation at hand. Usually there was barely any time to think. If he was interested in a man and the feeling was mutual, they would quickly meet, take what they wanted and leave as quickly, no unnecessary words needed.

The difference was the feelings Dorian was bearing for Cullen. He really liked him, but didn’t want to complicate their already confusing relationship. He groaned out loud. He hated his current state of mind, his self-pity. He was creating a disaster within himself out of fear and lack of confidence, of past experiences that shaped him the way he was; coating lies with honey and swindling people and refusing to deal with his heart’s aches.

His research wasn’t leading anywhere either, he’d sent a request for some books that hadn’t arrived yet, so he was left writing down theories of his own, but he still had nothing. Cullen still couldn’t remember what happened, so they weren’t sure who put the Vallaslin on him in the first place, or how long the spell to modify it would last. He was at a dead end.

He was reading when Cullen came back. His book was on the Templars abilities, an interesting read. He wanted to learn more about the magical-looking abilities Cullen had without any lyrium inside him, despite the book mentioning its need for a Templar’s full capacity. It was another topic he would need to discuss with Cullen once his voice was back. The warrior saw the book’s title and shook his head with a small smile.

_ It's not magic, _ __ he wrote down.

“I’m aware, it didn’t feel so despite looking like it, but I suppose you Templars use offensive as a defensive and were taught alternatives to deal with us mages.”

_ You know that curiosity kills the cat. _

“So says the giant cat.” Knowledge was power, and any information on the ones decimating his kind was one more defense against them.

They played chess after eating, the board set up nearby the lit fireplace. Dorian tried not to cheat most of the time, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. He found himself losing that night even if he moved a few of Cullen’s pawns when he wasn’t looking. He won the second round however, when he gave up on cheating. Cullen probably noticed when he cheated and wanted to teach him a lesson.

“You noticed me cheating, didn’t you?” Dorian asked him once they were clearing the board.

_ It’d be difficult not to. _

“Are you sassing me now? Did you let me win as well?”

_ Maybe. _  Cullen’s lopsided smile absolutely did _not_ twist his insides as well.

They got ready for bed, and Dorian brought his book about Templars, a wisp lightning up the pages as he read. Cullen was writing beside him, his head leaning against Dorian’s shoulder. The witch respected his privacy, so he never read what he was writing. He probably was trying to remember what happened to him by retelling what he could actually recall of the previous years, like a journal.

The words were becoming blurry to Dorian’s eyes, and he closed his book with a sigh. He’d read more tomorrow. Cullen looked up when he shifted to settle against him. A soft expression was playing on his face despite his tired eyes, and when Dorian averted his eyes to escape such display of feelings, he read his own name in his journal. He was talking about him?

His resolves crumbled. Dorian never had been a gentleman nor a good man, he didn’t know why he tried to resist against his own desires for so long.

He leaned over and kissed Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)


	10. Es Formosus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice how I’ve changed this story’s rating and added some tags..!

The kiss didn’t last long, because Dorian couldn’t determine if the lack of response was from surprise or disgust. Cullen’s lips remained soft and pliant against Dorian’s, but didn’t otherwise move.

He stepped back after a few seconds and cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” He bit his lip at Cullen’s wide-eyed expression. “Well I did, but not this way.” He groaned, regretting his gesture already. “I’ll just get some air,” he stated, hiding his hurt feelings behind a mask. 

He walked to the living room without looking back, grumbling under his breath as he put on his shoes. He couldn’t wait to get out of here. How stupid was it that he had to leave his own blasted house because of his foolishness.

“Dori-“ The voice startling him, breaking at the end of the word.

“You retrieved your voice?” Dorian asked, surprise making him turn around.

Cullen didn’t reply, instead walked over to him with careful steps, as if Dorian was a scared animal. The witch didn’t move even as he stopped a few inches away from him, the room lit enough to see his expression. He looked intent about something, but what exactly, Dorian was scared to know.

“Are you going to punch me?” Dorian asked with a small voice as Cullen lift up his hands. Instead of hitting him, they gently cradled his face, and Dorian stopped breathing.

Cullen slowly decreased the distance between them, his eyes careful and searching for any sign that Dorian didn’t want this. His thumb brushed the mole underneath his eye, making him sigh, until finally their lips met again. It was slow, but Cullen didn’t linger long enough to Dorian’s liking, instead pecking a corner of his lips as Dorian opened his eyes that he wasn’t aware he closed. Cullen was watching him, waiting, and Dorian leaned into his remaining hand against his cheek, his heart quivering. Never had he been handled this delicately.

“Alright?” Cullen whispered, his voice cracking.

“More than alright.” Dorian brought his hard body against his before kissing him again, this time not hiding his feelings and making it a mission to seduce Cullen with his lips, nipping and licking inside his mouth when he was allowed. He felt intoxicated when Cullen kissed him back just as eagerly, his stubble rasping his chin and disturbing his moustache. He pressed him against the door as they kissed until they were out of breath, Cullen’s hair disarray and wild. Dorian pulled on a strand to watch the curl form back again. He was aware of the strong thigh between his, especially when he shifted, making him curse and bless the thinness of their clothes.

“Are you able to speak now?” He repeated his previous question, his eyes following the way Cullen licked his lips. His hand was now loose in the crook of his neck, his thumb caressing his collarbone underneath his shirt, a sensitive spot for the witch that aroused his cock.

“A bit.” There definitely was a Fereldan accent in that croaked answer that Dorian didn’t usually find attractive, but he doubted there was anything about Cullen that he found unattractive at this point.

“That’s good, then, very good…” He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t begin a conversation now that he was right where he wanted to be, in Cullen’s arms. He moved his hands up his shirt to touch his back, felt the scars running along the soft skin. Cullen sighed with pleasure, their nose bumping together when he pressed a hot open-mouth kiss on his lips. Dorian made a pleased sound at the initiative and reciprocated the gesture.

He didn’t know how long they kept kissing in the living room, and honestly he would’ve been very happy to continue for a while. The only thing he cared about was Cullen, his touches always so soft but for his hips grinding into his more intently with each passing minute.

Before he knew it, Dorian was hard and panting as Cullen was marking his neck, licking and using his teeth and following the path of his tattoo towards his shoulder.

“Wait, mellitus,” he said with a moan, the pleasure almost too much. “Let’s continue in the bed.”

Cullen agreed and they quickly returned to the bedroom where Dorian pushed him backwards to the bed as it was his turn to kiss and lick his neck, the short hairs of his stubble tickling his cheek, before he licked teasingly his scar bisecting his top lip. Cullen fell backwards on the bed and Dorian straddled him, his fingers finding the hem of his light tunic to push it up and expose the hard planes of his chest. It was a sight he’d already seen a few times, but to know he was now allowed to touch meant a whole different thing. Cullen helped him, his hair tie falling in the process and his hair spilling on the mattress.

“Es formosus,” he breathed out, rolling his hips onto Cullen’s, moaning as their cock rubbed together. The friction was amazing, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel as much of Cullen as he could tonight. He unlaced quickly his breeches and only bothered to push them down enough to free his cock and balls, eager to take him in his hand and pump it slowly, biting his lip.

“Dori…” Cullen moaned, a sound that directly went to Dorian’s cock and strained his own breeches, and he realized he was still fully clothed. He stopped one moment to remove his shirt, throwing it behind him without a glance while Cullen undid his breeches and was a lot more careful with the garment that Dorian would’ve been. After a bit of rearrangement, they were completely nude and Dorian took back his place on him. He cast a quick spell he’d learned long ago to slick themselves up, groaning low in his throat. He leaned completely on Cullen, their torsos pressed together, and circled his arms around his neck to return to his lips while rolling his hips unto him.

Cullen moaned in his mouth, his own hips meeting Dorian’s and his hands exploring his back down to his ass, caressing the plump flesh leisurely. He was supporting the witch’s whole weight at that point, but either he was too far gone to realize this or he didn’t care. “So good,” he muttered against Dorian’s mouth. His feet found ground into the mattress and he used his hold on Dorian to jerk up into him, groaning as the friction got even better. The strength he was using with ease turned Dorian on, a hot pang of desire shooting straight to his dick each time he’d feel his thighs bulge, the forming sweat making it easier for their body to glide against one another.

“Fuck, Cullen, like that.” He was panting, damp forehead pressed in Cullen’s neck. He braced his hand on the bed beside their stomach, only bucking and rutting to meet Cullen’s thrusts now. He could hear every rasp, grunt and groan he was making.

The glide of his cock and balls along Cullen’s, trapped between their stomach, wasn’t enough anymore, he needed just something more. He used his leverage on the mattress to get up and slide his hand between them, palming both of their hard-on and wrapping his hand around their length as best he could to stroke them. He thumbed Cullen’s slit and twisted his wrist to hear more of those arousing moans. Cullen decided to help, engulfing his smaller hand in his in the process and making him moan loudly at the sight and the feel.

He was fucking Cullen’s fist at that point. He was so close. It was when his balls were gently tugged that he came hard with a shout, hitting their stomach and chest with warm stripes of cum. Even dazzled and high with euphoria, he still pushed away Cullen’s hand to take care of his heavy cock, almost purple to the head. He was slippery with lubricant and other fluids, and it didn’t take long for his body to finally reach an orgasm, thighs quivering and stomach spasming, the fireplace still giving enough light for Dorian to watch Cullen’s expression as he came.

He licked the back of his hand where a few drops had fallen, his gaze gliding down from the face of the beautiful man underneath him to the heaving chest, sporting the results of what they just had done.

“What a beautiful sight you make,” he managed to say in his daze. Before he crashed beside him, he forced his trembling limbs to get out of bed to get a wet cloth to clean them both. Cullen tugged him against him once he was done, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling his neck. He was taking deep breaths, smelling him.

Dorian melted into the embrace and made himself comfortable, their legs tangled together. He began to trace the tattoo on his thigh, an ever-present reminiscence, and Cullen hummed against his ear.

“Dorian,” he mumbled sleepily, which made the witch smile and plant a kiss on the nearest patch of skin he found.

“If I knew kissing you would get you to talk, I would’ve done it sooner.”

“You should have.” Stubble scratched his chin and Cullen was giving him a long kiss, taking the time to explore his mouth in lazy strokes of his tongue.

Long after, after they drew the covers on them to snuggle underneath and Dorian was stroking his long hair, Cullen cleared his throat.

“I still can’t remember.”

Dorian didn’t understand right away what he meant, dozing slightly with his head on his chest. “Your voice came back to you, like your memories will.” He trailed his mouth along a pectoral, knowing his moustache would tickle. “Do you know why someone would curse you?”

“I ask myself this question every day.” The reply was hushed, either to spare his voice or out of frustration.

“You are now able to talk, that’s already one step ahead.” The vibrations of Cullen’s chest when he hummed in agreement felt nice against his ear.

“A wall is blocking me from knowing.”

“We’ll break it down then.” Dorian was on the verge of falling asleep, warm and finally content. He searched for his hand and squeezed it, not letting go as sleep took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mellitus: Honey  
> Es formosus : You are handsome/beautiful (I’m not sure about this one, tell me if I’m wrong)
> 
> My tumblr: [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	11. Ignorance is only what it takes

"There’s a few things we need to discuss properly, now that you can talk.” Dorian announced to Cullen the next morning as they were eating breakfast. Cullen had been drinking tea while reading, but he let aside the book at that sentence, tensing.

“About me being an ex-Templar?” Cullen’s voice was still rough around the edges, but Dorian liked it, and he believed his voice was naturally deep anyway.

“Among other things. Let’s begin with that, shall we?”

Cullen nodded. “It’s nothing extraordinary. I began my training when I was thirteen. I wanted to protect my family, my country. I was first sent to Kinloch Hold.”

He dragged a pause, clearing his throat and drinking some more tea. Dorian filled their cups, watching the multiple expressions play on Cullen’s face.

“This name tells me something. Isn’t that where…?”

“It was. A group of cultists took some Templars in hostage and began to sacrifice them to whoever they were worshipping. I was the only survivor.”

Dorian slid his hand forwards, squeezing the warrior’s. Cullen turned his palm up and interlaced their fingers together.

“It took me a while to get over it. I’d become a Templar to protect people, never did I think I would myself become a victim. I requested a transfer and was sent to Kirkwall in the Free Marches. To say things got worse is an understatement.”

“How come?” Dorian asked, intrigued by his tale. He went through so much, yet here he was, drinking tea and eating toasts with him in the middle of the woods.

“Kirkwall is a corrupted city, the Templars included, and the city guards could only do so much. Cultists, abominations and much worse people lurked all around, in the underground parts of the city or directly in the positions of power. You must know that our abilities mainly come from the blue lyrium, but some Templars used red lyrium instead, and it made them mad. The Knight-Commander was taking the red kind.”

“Who were supplying them?”

“That is one of the reasons I joined the Inquisition, I wanted to discover the source and stop it, and I knew I would have the necessary resources to do so.”

“Did you find it?”

Cullen exhaled through his nose. “That’s the part I can’t recall. I remember the first months at Skyhold, working with the Inquisitor, but it gets blurry, as if something was clouding my memories.”

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“Lavellan and I working on a lead about Venatori, that’s who she was most preoccupied about. We worked in the War Room, then I left, and… that’s it.”

“Can you recall any detail about your lead? Any clue might help.”

Cullen placed the index and middle finger of his free hand against his temple, massaging it. “We were to leave for somewhere some of our spies had witnessed Venatori activities.” He groaned, visibly in pain.

“Alright, stop, you’re only hurting yourself.” Dorian tugged his hand to bring him back to the present, worried.

“I think it’s too late.” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Headache? I can ease it, if you want.”

Cullen looked at him for a moment before nodding. Dorian sent a minor healing spell in his neck which made the warrior slightly recoil, but he squeezed Dorian’s hand and placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist in gratitude.

“It’s better, thank you,” he said.

“There’s another subject I’d like to discuss. The lyrium.”

“I’m not sure if I know more than you on the subject,” Cullen admitted, swirling his tea cup. They still were holding hands.

“Do all Templars take it?”

“Yes, as far as I’m aware. When I became a lion, I fell into withdrawal.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure. A year, a year and a half maybe. I was feverish most of the time, otherwise I would find food and return to the cave I was living in. I thought many times I was about to die.”

Cullen took lyrium most of his life, a year seemed fitting for all that drug to be flushed out of his system. It still twisted Dorian’s guts as he said that. “But you’re here now. What happened once most of it was over?”

“My thoughts were scattered. I barely could remember that I was a human first. I had survived with the sole help of my instincts for months by that point. Once I knew I was the Inquisition’s commander, I decided to return to Skyhold.”

He pulled at the hem of his collar to show Dorian a scar on his shoulder, bumpy and uneven. It was from a large wound.

“Soldiers did this to me to shoo me away. I didn’t do anything to provoke them, yet they didn’t hesitate before stabbing me, and I barely made it out alive.”

“That makes two of us,” Dorian said with a dark tone.

Cullen looked up at that. “You mentioned it before. What happened?”

Dorian clicked his tongue. “Let’s just say that every encounter I have with Templars always end badly.”

“Oh. How bad?”

“Templars insulting me, both parties fighting over the fact that I’m a witch and a pariah, then me running as fast as I can before I kill one of them.”

Anger flashed in Cullen’s eyes, but it wasn’t directed at him, Dorian realized after a moment. “Hold on to that, I want details once I tell you everything. You’ll owe me a bit of your story by then.”

“Fair enough, dear.”

Cullen reddened a bit at the nickname. “There’s not much else to tell. It took a while for the wound to heal, and it was clear I couldn’t return to Skyhold as an animal. Something had changed within the Templars that made me feel uneasy in their presence, something I smelled on them. They reeked of red lyrium, and there’s no way the Inquisitor would allow such thing.”

Dorian always could feel the tinge of lyrium on someone, it sang to him, and he’d thought that his hate of Templars was the reason it usually repulsed him, but maybe there was another reason behind it. With Cullen’ enhanced senses, there was no denying it.

“They’re corrupted.”

Cullen nodded, his face grim. “Something happened in the last three years that changed the Inquisition for the worst. It drives me mad to know I could’ve helped but wasn’t there.”

It pained Dorian to say this, but had to. “You probably would be corrupted as well, Cullen. I’m beginning to think, from what you’re telling me, that whoever put that spell on you did it to protect you.”

“Perhaps,” Cullen sighed. “But I wished they did it differently.”

“What matters now is that you’re alive and safe. Those glyphs outside aren’t just for decorations.”

“I have to thank you for that,” Cullen remarked, golden eyes going heated. He reached for him and Dorian lost track of time while the warrior slowly explored and ravished his mouth, straddling him on the chair. He would never be tired of Cullen’s kisses, especially when they tasted like the strawberry jam he’d spread earlier on his toasts.

“I fear to never hear the end of your story if we continue.” Dorian whispered as Cullen lightly bit his earlobe. He gasped as hips met his, grinding on him. “ _Kaffas, mellitus.”_

“What does it mean?”

“What?” Dorian’s mind was fuzzy with pleasure, his cock stirring awake.

“ _Mellitus._  What does it mean?”

“Oh.” He hadn’t realized he’d said it, but then Cullen was looking at him with red lips and he gulped. “It’s a pet name I gave you when you were Aureus.”

Cullen was continuing to rub his ass on his lap, not even affected. “You still haven’t answered.”

“It means honey, you tease.”

That made Cullen stop, flustered. How such man could do these things on his lap, then blush at a nickname, Dorian wondered. “Really?”

“Yes. As I said, it came up when-“

“But you still use it now.”

“Force of habit, I suppose.” It was his turn to feel embarrassed, even if the happy smile Cullen gave him eased his discomfort. He fell on his knees before him and began to unlace Dorian’s breeches, his big fingers not even hesitating, and Dorian’s mouth suddenly felt dry.

“Let’s discuss later.” He took in hand his half-hard cock, stroking it until it was fully hard. Only then did he wrap his lips around the head, taking more and more and his tongue pressing right underneath… Fuck. His enthusiasm certainly made up for the lack of practice, as it would be with the last three years spent as a lion. Just the sight of him on his knees before him was a big turn on; he brows furrowed in concentration, beautiful lips stretched wide and the smalls groans of pleasure. Then he had to look up with his mouth full with his cock, and Dorian came hard. Spent after the breathtaking orgasm, Dorian proposed to return the favor, which Cullen declined, stating they’d have plenty of time to enjoy themselves later.

He grabbed a cloth to clean himself after he licked the cum that had spilled at the corner of his lips. Dorian had to wonder who between the two had the most sexual experience after such display. He planned on making it up Cullen once they’d finished talking, he couldn’t wait to explore more of his body.

“How did you learn of me?” Was his question once Cullen sat back on his chair, mouth still swollen.

“During the last months, I travelled around Fereldan because I knew a witch might be able to help me, and that some lived secluded, but everywhere I went, they chased me away. I had to stay hidden in Redcliffe to hear people talk about someone having been swindled by an evil witch.”

“I reckon that’s me.”

“I didn’t know where to look exactly, so I searched for hours under the rain, until I found your house. I wasn’t even sure you could help me, let alone give me shelter, but you did. You weren’t even scared of me.”

“You looked like a big wet dog, how could I fear you?”

“Many people still refused to help me over the last years.”

Dorian pursed his lips and excused himself to relieve his bladder and clear his thoughts at the same time. Cullen telling him his story helped him to understand him, he felt closer to him in a way. The fact that nobody wanted to help him was a close reminiscence of when Dorian first arrived. He was from Tevinter, no one wanted to be seen with him, and they didn’t even know about his magic.

“It’s your turn to share your story,  _mellitus_.” Cullen said when he returned. Dorian blinked, taken aback by Cullen’s attempt at the witch’s mother tongue, and was surprised to feel his cheeks warm up. He never blushed.

“Your accent is terrible,” he said to gain back some sort of countenance. “I’ll teach you. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you leave Tevinter, if witches aren’t persecuted there?” By Cullen’s tone, he didn’t like the country, perhaps with all the rumors, half of them true. Dorian didn’t take offense.

“The difficult question right away, I see. No, Tevinter doesn’t persecute witches, but it does persecute other anomalies, to say the least. Social classes are strict over there, and I am from the highest class, an Altus, born from generations of witches. I was to marry a beautiful girl and make perfect witch babies with her. This is what my parents expected of me.”

Understanding dawned on Cullen, making him frown. “But you like men.”

“But my opinion wasn’t in the equation, you see. I objected to every marriage attempt until my father was fed up. He kidnapped me and kept me in the basement of our mansion for months, and when I still refused to marry a woman, he attempted a blood ritual on me.”

Cullen looked horrified. Blood magic was feared above everything else, and Dorian frowned upon its use as well. “Your own father…”

“It didn’t succeed, luckily, and I ran off for good. I tried living in cities, but it just didn’t work out. I prefer living like a pariah in the middle of the woods than to scream on the inside for the rest of my life. You lived the same thing than I did. Southerners fear witches and all oddities because they don’t know what we can do, but magic isn’t necessary to cause destruction. Ignorance is only what it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	12. Guilt of the past

After they talked, Cullen went outside to water the garden. They both needed some time alone to assimilate the new information. The warrior might have done some wrongs, but he wasn’t the monster Dorian thought all templars to be. He should’ve known, things never were black or white.

He focused on his potions for the afternoon, trying his best to not think about how much he wanted to join Cullen outside.

After he left Tevinter, he never set foot in a brothel again. Sure, he had a few nights of fun with good-looking strangers, but before Cullen, he’s given up on love. He always thought there was no love possible for him at that point in his life. He had a few rumbles in the sheets with the Iron Bull who understood him better than most, but the Qunari slept with anyone, so that didn’t mean much. They both sought release with each other, and that was all it would remain.

He already knew it was different with Cullen. Sharing his everyday life, sleeping in the same bed, even eating breakfast together, felt more intimate than all the sex Dorian ever experienced. Cullen was calm most of the time, giving his task at hand all his attention with that same intent look, not that the witch would admire him from afar, he certainly never did. Dorian would also catch the other looking at him with an expression that made his blood boil in a very good way. He wanted to join him in the garden just to be with him, and it was the oddest feeling.

A courier came to deliver a letter for Cullen and some books for Dorian, later in the afternoon. The latter tried his best not to probe as Cullen read, smiling. Jealousy tightened his throat, he realized with a start.

“It’s from my sister Mia,” Cullen informed him. “I knew she’d be the first to reply, she always scolded me for not sending her and my other siblings an update on my whereabouts.”

“How many sisters and brothers do you have?” Dorian inquired, calmer now that that stupid unfounded feeling had left him.

“Two sisters, one brother. Mia is the oldest one, then there’s me, Branson and Rosalie. How about you?”

“I’m the only son of the Pavus family, my parents didn’t want more and preferred to put all the pressure on me.”

“I’m sorry you had to suffer for your parents’ decisions,” Cullen said, and Dorian made a disapproving noise.

“Nothing to apologize for, even if a knight in shining armor would certainly have been a sight for sore eyes during my captive days.”

Cullen ducked his head at that, but Dorian still caught a glimpse of anger. He patted his arm awkwardly. “Don’t work yourself over it, I was jesting. Those days are over.”

Cullen caught his hand and kissed the back of it. “Fortunately.”

His heart flustered at the gesture and the adorable – or was it adoration? – look he sent him.

The following days didn’t bring much change. Dorian read more on the Dalish than he ever wished to, without finding anything worthy. There was no information either clearly indicating the Vallaslin were worn by slaves, it was to wonder how Solas knew about this, but he was an apostate elf, how far his knowledge reached would remain a mystery. The books would instead describe the Vallaslin as an initiation to adulthood, during which the elves would choose whose god they wished to represent and associate themselves with. Some gods had temples, but they weren’t worshipping locations anymore, as far as the book revealed.

Cullen interrupted his reading multiple times. Either he would ask Dorian to train with him or take care of the garden or the house, which Dorian found arousing in a domestic kind of way. Sometimes he’d sit with Dorian to play chess or help him however he could, but it was easy to see how unused he was at staying still. He was an active man who needed to do something with his hands.

“I can’t believe you would lounge around all day when you were a lion,” the witch commented one afternoon after a difficult training session. His muscles were aching and he was panting hard, but Cullen was about the same. He’d removed his tunic and had his hair tucked in a bun high on his head, leaving his face and chest bare to Dorian’s hungry eyes. It was unfair how handsome he looked in that sweaty state, his stubble defining that beautiful jaw and muscles shining under the sun.

“It keeps myself distracted from other thoughts.”

Dorian lost his playful smirk at that. “Oh, I see.” Doubts came nagging at him, his insecurity triggered. It must have shown on his face.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Cullen quickly added. “I wrote to a friend of the Inquisition, Cassandra Pentaghast, but I have yet to hear back. It’s not in her habits to delay, and I am beginning to think something happened to her.”

“Oh,” Dorian made again, this time in comprehension. “I have to run some errands to Haven tomorrow, would you like to join me and send another letter? It might have been lost.”

“Don’t expect me to let you go on your own anyway.”

Dorian scoffed, brushing back bangs that made their way in front of his eyes. “You don’t need to accompany me everywhere either.”

He regretted his words at Cullen’s hurt expression. “I don’t need your protection, is what I mean,” he added.

“I’m aware. Trust me, I know, but I like being with you.” By the Maker, the ease Cullen had to say such words, Dorian felt like a fool for not being able to do the same. He approached him instead, pressed a hand on his chest.

“Let’s stop this nonsense. Both of us want to go to Haven tomorrow, let’s keep it at that. And just so you know, I… I like being with you too.” Keeping his eyes on Cullen’s was hard, but he was determined to show him he meant it. He was awarded by a crooked smile followed by a slow kiss. This reminded himself of something.

“Let’s go wash ourselves,” he said with a smouldering look before taking off. Cullen was quick to follow. He’d never seen him remove his clothes and get in the pond so fast.

“Come on.” Dorian laughed at his eagerness and accepted his extended hand to join him in the water. The witch didn’t let go and pulled him against him instead. Cullen followed, smiling and his eyes soft. Dorian pressed a kiss on his top lip, then on the bottom one, gently tugging it with his teeth and sucking on it. Cullen had a low moan and kissed him properly, his stubble rasping against Dorian’s chin. He gripped his back and slid his hands down to the dip of his waist, setting on his sides.

Dorian didn’t intend to simply kiss him however. They’d been exchanging a few of those during the day, but he wanted to do more. He guided him backwards until he hit the edge of the pond.

“Sit down for me?”

Cullen did so, his eyes dark and his chest heaving faster than usual. He was at the perfect height to leave a trail of wet kisses all over Dorian’s belly and adventure his hands down. Dorian was very tempted to let him continue, but he had something else in mind.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of you now,” he hushed, dropping on his knees.

The water went up to his armpits, as the pond was deep around its edges. He grabbed Cullen’s thighs and installed himself between them, eyeing his cock at half mast.

“Please do so,” Cullen said with anticipation in his voice. Good. He groaned and shifted his hips as Dorian took his dick in his hand, stroking down so the foreskin would expose the pink head. He flicked it a few times and licked it until Cullen’s breath hitched, then used the flat of his tongue over the length. Cullen’s hands were in fists on each side of him, his thighs hard from restricting his own movements, and Dorian loved the control he had over him.

“Maker!” Cullen gasped when he drew his cock in his mouth, appreciating the weight of it, the taste and the immediate response he got. He’d missed this. He bobbed his head up and down, breathing through his nose when his cock was brushing the back of his throat. He looked up to Cullen’s face, noticed with satisfaction that his blush went all the way down to his chest. He kept eye contact and left kisses all over his glistening cock, grinning at the moan it earned it.

He wrapped his wet lips around the head again, teased right underneath it, and cupped his balls with one hand, massaging them. He returned to sucking him, going faster and sloppier. Cullen was acting more frantic, his hips giving small thrusts. He ended up gripping his hair, not that Dorian minded as he knew he was reaching completion.

His nails lightly scrapped underneath his balls and Cullen let out another moan. Dorian let out his cock with a wet noise and used his hand to jerk him off until he came with a small shout, kissing and nibbling his inner thighs.

Cullen drew in a deep breath, slowly shutting his mouth, and Dorian smirked wickedly up at him. He watched as he slid back in the water to rinse himself off, then was grabbed and kissed thoroughly, nevermind how his mouth tasted.

“Let me pleasure you?”

“Oh, so nicely asked.” He sighed when Cullen attacked his neck, his big hands cupping his ass, and he tried not to notice that fuzzy feeling in his chest.

 

 

The next morning they left early and met only a handful of bandits on the road leading to Haven. With the amount of times Dorian had dealt with them, it was exasperating that they kept coming back.

“I have enough of these cretins, let’s move on,” he sighed as his spirit mark left the last body, ending the combat.

“Wait. Perhaps we may do something about them.” Cullen had been looting the corpses, something Dorian had no care for, and had plucked a letter out of a bandit’s pocket. He gave it to the witch after quickly reading it.

“Well they aren’t very eloquent, are they?” Dorian quirked an eyebrow at the short message mentioning the location of their hideout. “What are you suggesting?”

“Going there and taking care of them. It’s not far, then we can continue to Haven.” Excitement was showing in Cullen’s voice, despite the fact they’d just killed three bandits. Honestly, Dorian could only think of positive points at getting rid of that gang of bandits once and for all.

“Fine. Lead the way.” Dorian strapped his staff to his back. He usually stayed on the path during his walks through the forest, but this required to walk further in its depths, an unknown territory for him. Cullen had no problem leading them forwards.

“You seem to know this forest better than I,” Dorian remarked.

“I lived for a bit here before I came to your door,” Cullen replied. He sounded hesitant to admit that, and it only took a few seconds for Dorian to understand the reason.

“You mean… were you spying on me?” He asked in disbelief, stopping in his tracks and forcing Cullen to turn around.

“I was, only because I wanted to make sure-“

“I wasn’t an evil witch,” Dorian finished for him. “Is that why you reacted so negatively when I resurrected that woman?”

“I never witnessed necromancy before. I always thought that the dead stayed dead, but to see you make the woman stand up again and walk, it felt surreal. I didn’t know what to think of it.”

“Did you want to leave?” Dorian asked with a weaker voice than he intended.

Cullen winced, but shook his head. “Merely for a second. You’re only doing what you have to do to survive, and I’ve done worse things myself, so who’d I be to judge you?”

The tension was still palpable despite these words, the air heavy with the guilt of the past. Dorian hated it.

“Beside, I’m too handsome to leave behind,” Dorian joked to ignore the feeling in his chest. Cullen chuckled, relieved.

“That, too.”

They continued without any other stop, until they came across a cave entrance that had been improved with torches. Not very wise for a secret hideout, but Dorian was beginning to think of those bandits as amateurs. They exchanged a look and he knew Cullen had the thought. Two bandits were at the end of the first couloir, easy targets for Dorian’s fireballs and Cullen’s sword and shield.

What the witch didn’t expect were the torches being extinguished behind them, plunging the both of them in the dark, and footsteps coming closer.

Dorian cast a wisp and sent it forward, only to be shocked at who it illuminated.

“You-!”

“Were about to take care of this place before you guys showed up.” Bethany Hawke, alive and well, was frowning at him, a basic staff at her side. Marian and Elissa appeared behind her, blocking the entrance.

“By the Maker, what are you doing here?” Elissa asked.

“Cullen?” Hawke said in amazement.

Dorian couldn’t believe this. It had been about a month since he did the ritual on Bethany, yet she was still alive.

“You two know each other?” He asked absently, trying to come with a logical reason. Did her own magic abilities allowed her to survive?  He had been the one creating the spell, this was a prototype after all, and the spell required mana to sustain itself. It was the reason it never lasted, but performed on another witch, it could survive by feeding on a permanent mana pool. It was…

“Fascinating,” he whispered, still looking at the other witch.

“Hawke,” Cullen nodded at her. “How are you doing?”

“Good. I’m with the Blackstone Irregulars now. You stopped killing witches?”

Dorian blinked. Hawke was blunter than he was; he was beginning to like her. “How about you continue your reunion after we’ve taken care of the bandits?”

Elissa nodded. “Good idea. Come on.” She was quick to disappear in the shadows, away from Dorian’s wisp.

“You’re the one who resurrected me, aren’t you?” Bethany asked him as she walked beside him. She had kind brown eyes, he remarked when he glanced at her.

“I am. Did the moustache give it away?”

“Partly. I heard about your charms as well.”

Dorian pressed a hand against his mouth to keep his laugh in check. “You’re the kind Hawke, then?”

“Said the evil witch,” Marian replied behind them.

“I heard somewhere that evil witches don’t grow moustaches,” Cullen replied for him. This was a first, someone defending him.

“So you stopped thinking that all witches are evil then, Cullen?” Hawke kept provoking the warrior. Dorian didn’t know what happened between them, but she was still bitter about it.

“Shut it!” It was Elissa who appeared before them. “There’s about a dozen of them in the room ahead.”

Elissa, Hawke and Cullen walked in first to charge while Dorian and Bethany stayed behind to take care of the rangers as quickly as possible. It was also a time for Dorian to judge what Bethany could do, and he wasn’t disappointed. For an apostate, she was very good with ice spells and complemented his fire ones. They worked in pair to protect the other three while sending the occasional offensive spell.

He set up a barrier around them and cast a Walking Bomb on a bandit to watch him explode and take a few of his friends with him. He couldn’t use a fire spell on the last ones as it could do collateral damage, but a horror on the one Cullen was fighting helped him get the advantage.

A bandit escaped the warriors and came towards them, probably realizing who were using magic. Bethany cast ice spikes coming out of the ground to impale him, but he dodged it, only for Dorian to use a mental blast and throw him back on them. Bethany staggered beside him once they were safe, and he barely had time to catch her. She looked pale, paler than usual anyway, and seemed a bit out of it. She was almost out of mana.

“Are you alright?”

“I exhaust myself trying to impress you, I think,” Bethany wheezed out, getting back on her feet.

“Here, drink this.” He gave her a lyrium potion.

“What’s this?” She asked even as she gulped it down. Colors returned to her face.

“A potion to replenish your mana pool.”

“Never heard of it.”

“As you should. You’ve only recently embraced your magical abilities, and it’s a recipe not known by many.” Only taught in Tevinter, to be more precise, but Dorian wasn’t about to tell her this.

The combat was over, Marian and Cullen already looting the bodies and putting aside whatever they found. Dorian was more interested in the chests in a corner of the room, but there wasn’t anything worth in the first one. There were runes in the other one, however, and he wondered where they stole it from. It wasn’t any sort he ever saw before either, so he quickly slipped them in his satchel. Cullen had found a better shield, Marian a better greatsword, and Elissa some venom for her daggers.

They made sure everyone was dead before returning outside, and for someone who dealt with the dead on a daily basis, Dorian was happy to gulp fresh air. He didn’t like small places.

“Where are you heading next?”

“Haven,” Cullen replied. “That was our first destination, but these bandits attacked us.”

“What about you?” Dorian asked back.

“We had a contract to take care of these bandits,” Elissa replied, writing something down in a small book.

“We’ll head to Haven with you, we need to speak with the Blackstone Irregulars’ agent there.”

So what was supposed to only take a few hours to go and come back from Haven ended up spending hours with the mercenaries at the village’s tavern, to celebrate the extermination of one more group of bandits. Iron Bull and his chargers weren't there, surprisingly, probably away for a contract. There were many other patrons that night however, and Dorian might have drunk a bit too much, judging by the world spinning around him as he went to the latrines to relieve himself.

He returned to the table he shared with the mercenaries and promptly fell asleep in the middle of a story, his head against Cullen’s shoulder.

He appeared in the Fade, and almost immediately felt something poke his mind. Someone was looking for him and was quite obviously probing around to get his attention.

“I have news,” Felix told him in lieu of greetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read somewhere that if you didn’t choose the Noble Human origins, Cousland became part of the Blackstone Irregulars, but I can’t find the source anymore, or maybe it was all in my head, I’m not sure. Anyway, I thought this would be a nice connection to make since there’s no blight in this universe.
> 
> My tumblr: [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	13. If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is by Alfred Lord Tennyson and the full version is:  
> “If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.”

> _ Soft Fade-touched light, in dream-lit tones, falls dark. _
> 
> _ Each form a memory, recalled through parted lips, _
> 
> _ That try to speak, fall silent. _
> 
> _ —Codex Entry: Ameridan and the Mage _

  
Dorian woke up with a start. He just had a dream, one that was already slipping between his fingers but trapped him between dream and reality for a disconcerting moment. It left an ashy taste in his mouth. He opened his eyes and threw a careful look around. He wasn’t in the tavern anymore, but in the comfort of a bed, wrapped in Cullen’s embrace whose regular heartbeats were already calming his own erratic ones.

He breathed in his lover’s enticing smell. There were worst ways to wake up from a nightmare than to feel such a deliciously muscled body pressed against his. The first sun rays flooded the small room, meaning he still had time before he’d have to get up, and he fully intended to use it.

He slid his leg between Cullen’s, loving the feeling of the powerful thigh pressed under his, and dozed off snuggled against him.

He woke up later on to a set of lips and tongue exploring his torso, making his breath hitch as the last remnants of sleep were lifted up his mind by adventurous hands down his unfastened trousers. He was on his back with Cullen knelt between his spread legs, soft blond hair tickling him as he was marking his way down.

“Good morning, love,” Cullen softly breathed on a spot he’d just licked, raising goosebumps, and Dorian made an odd wheezing sound as his hand tightened around his stiffening cock, his strokes slowly increasing in pace. He looked up and their eyes met, the sight making Dorian twitch and groan, but such a beautiful display did many things to his heart as well.

“Good morning indeed,” Dorian managed to say, watching with intent Cullen move down to his crotch after he left bite marks that sure would bruise up later on, not that he minded. He groaned and his toes curled when swollen lips wrapped around the head of his leaking cock, taking more and more until he could no more, and then he was sucking him fast and deep. His hollowed cheeks and decadent smoldering looks were enough to send him over the edge in no time.

“ _Kaffas, ama-_ “ He choked down the rest of the word as he came, but only just. He was shocked that he chose to use that name in the midst of passion.

“Dori?” Cullen asked, concerned, one large hand squeezing his hip and the other one wiping his mouth. “Did I do something?”

“Quite the contrary, you’re wonderful,” was the witch’s quick reply. He refused to think of his feelings right now. “Come here.” Cullen was all too happy to obey, kissing him with a smile. His weight was crushing him down into the mattress, but Dorian found that he didn’t mind as he kneaded the plump flesh of his bullocks. 

“May I ask where we are?” He thought of asking before he completely forgot his own name.

“Still at Haven’s tavern, there are rooms for rent for people too drunk to walk home.”

“I wasn’t drunk…” Dorian weakly protested and Cullen chuckled.

“Tired, then, enough to fall asleep on me in the middle of a conversation,” he casually said, grounding his hips into him.

“Mm.” He kissed Cullen under the jaw, his fingers running between his ass cheeks, and it had more than a little effect judging by Cullen’s moan.

“You like that?” Dorian purred, doing it again, pressing against his opening.

“Fuck, I didn’t know it felt this good,” Cullen stammered with wide eyes as his blush spread down to his neck and chest. He sat on his knees on each side of Dorian’s thighs, opening himself to him with short pants, his heavy cock resting alongside Dorian’s on his stomach. He looked gorgeous like that, rutting on his lap after the witch used magical lubricant to coat his fingers and slowly penetrate him with one digit.

He worked him open as best he could with the slightly awkward position, but he wouldn’t have moved anyway. The expressions on the warrior’s face were worth the cramps and suffering. He added a second digit, curving them to find that spot that’d make him scream.

“Sweet Maker,” Cullen panted. He braced himself on the mattress and began to stroke his dick in quick, uneven motions while he fucked himself on Dorian’s hand. Three fingers did the trick and he came all over Dorian’s belly, biting his lip to muffle his loud moan. He fell beside Dorian, panting, a thin coat of sweat covering his heaving chest. Dorian grinned and licked some cum that had managed to land on his chin.

“And here I wanted to give you pleasure all morning,” Cullen said once he could breathe properly.

“That still can be arranged. Do to me what I did to you,” he smirked, lazily stroking himself a few times before he rolled on his stomach, arching his back just so his ass would stand out. Cullen’s hungry gaze slid down, but then he was making him return on his back with gentle hands. Dorian let him do so with a confused look.

“I want to see your face,” he explained with red cheeks, and if Dorian hadn’t been that much aroused, he might have blushed back. At this point, he only wanted Cullen’s fingers or cock in his ass.

He cast the lubricant spell for him to indicate it was now or never, the warrior quickly understanding the message. He installed himself between his thighs, and for a moment, he looked every bit like a lion with the way he looked down at him. He rested a warm hand on his thigh while his other tugged and massaged his balls on its way beneath them. The cooling product left on them made him shiver as much as the prodding finger circling his entrance.

“Have you ever done this?” He asked, breathing deeply as it entered him.

“A few times.” Cullen was looking into his eyes, admiring him instead of his work, and Dorian felt his cheeks flush.

“Naughty Templar,” he still replied, a wicked smile marking his face before Cullen hit his sweet spot by accident, then continued with that angle. He bent down and licked an oversensitive nipple.

“Another.” He began to writhe, propped a leg up and moaned loudly when Cullen did as instructed, the slick making wet noises. “Faster.”

“So needy…” Cullen whispered even as he fastened his pace. He licked some of the hickeys he previously created to make him gasp and moan, but still kept an eye on his face to watch him come undone. Three fingers were almost too much for Dorian, and he held on Cullen’s broad shoulders, feeling his orgasm build up in his groin. He gasped as it finally exploded, his mouth parting open and his vision going blank. 

He weakly hissed when Cullen removed his fingers, spent and boneless. He still kissed him back when those lovely lips returned to his, fisting luscious blond curls.

“You’re so handsome, love.” Tenderness and awe were openly visible on Cullen’s face, making his heart skip a beat.

“I’m always handsome,” he weakly retorted to distract himself, unable to look away from those golden eyes. “Now, not that I mind staying like this, but- Oh.” Cullen grinded his hard cock against his ass, grinning.

“I rendered you speechless, a feat in itself.” He propped himself on his knees, thick thighs flexing, and lifted up Dorian with an arm around his waist to place a pillow underneath him. “Do you want this?”

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t let you manhandle me like that otherwise. Watching you do the work is quite arousing however, I’ll admit.” Dorian still helped to slicken up his shaft and lifted a leg to his shoulder for better access. They both grunted as the blunt of Cullen’s head pressed into his entrance. It gave way with a push and his cock entered him smoothly the rest of the way.

“ _Vishante kaffas_ , give me a minute.” Dorian hadn’t had anyone take him in such way for a while now, but the burning sensation was difficult to forget. He stroked himself to ease the pain faster, bringing himself hard again. A bigger slippery hand wrapped around his, another teased his balls and that place right under them that felt so good and made him whimper. Cullen began to move, shallow thrusts becoming faster and deeper until he was pounding into him, skin slapping against skin. He shifted and made Dorian clench around him in blinding pleasure.

“Dorian, Dorian,” he kept moaning. He gripped the back of the witch’s thighs and pressed them back by his shoulders on the mattress, spreading him wide and pinning them there with his weight to better ram into him.

Dorian was enraptured in sensations, each stroke on his sweet spot sending electricity up his spine, and it never seemed to stop; a never ending flow of raw pleasure. He was well on his way to another orgasm, the new position leaving him vulnerable and naked to Cullen’s gaze, but he didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted Cullen to see.

“ _Amatus_ , I’m so close,” he writhed, unfocused hands returning to his cock for desperate strokes.

“Then come for me, love,” Cullen growled, wild hair strands obscuring his face. He leaned forward to devour his mouth, the bed creaking loudly underneath them, and Dorian came hard, his scream caught by Cullen’s lips. It wasn’t long before he was filled with hot seed, Cullen thrusting a few more times before crashing down on him, his face in the crook of his neck. His hair tickled his face, and Dorian absently stroked it to try to make some sense into that mane.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he commented after a minute or two. Cullen shifted so he could stretch them, making him wince. “Worth it though.”

He got up and wobbled to the water basin to wash his torso and between his legs as best he could. He was sticky but aching pleasantly, and a look in the mirror showed him numerous hickeys, bite marks and hand imprints on him, all signs that he’d just been thoroughly fucked. He returned to bed with a wet cloth and cleaned Cullen with a soft hand.

They cuddled and nuzzled some more in the bed, enjoying their post-orgasm euphoria.

“What happened after I fell asleep?” Dorian mumbled after some time in the crook of his neck. He was curled in Cullen’s arms and had no intention of leaving them. 

“Nothing much. The Iron Bull and the Chargers left as well as the mercenaries, then I paid for a room.”

“You mean you paid for a room with my gold?” Dorian replied, but without malice. It wasn’t like he’d been conscious to pay it himself. “Tell me, do you remember ever visiting the Temple of Mythal?”

Cullen snorted, keeping his eyes closed. “I don’t even know where that is located.”

“In the Arbor Wilds.”

“I don’t recall going there. Why this sudden question?”

“I asked a friend of mine to look for some information on the Inquisition.”

“By friend, you mean another witch?”

“Yes, he lives in Tevinter.” Dorian pressed a kiss on his shoulder, his fingers roaming across his broad back, unconsciously drawing protection glyphs on him. “Last night, he came to talk to me in the Fade. His father is part of the Venatori, and he found some reports in his office. Apparently the Inquisition went to the temple of Mythal about three years ago but was caught in a trap. The details remain unclear, but you were there and declared dead in combat soon after.”

“By the Maker… I don’t remember any of that,” Cullen said in defeat. “The answer could be there.”

“Perhaps, but don’t fret over it. Felix will give me information as soon as he has some, and we’ll send a letter to your friend in the meantime.”

Cullen nodded, but he still looked miserable. They dressed up, ate, then went off outside to take care of their errands. Marian, Bethany and Elissa were already gone. Dorian wished he’d have asked more questions to Bethany, but at the same time, he was a bit afraid of the answers. The effects of his magic on her remained unpredictable, but he kept giving the excuse that she’d looked perfectly normal.

While Cullen was sending his letter, Dorian retrieved the cloak he’d have prepared for him and returned to his lover with fingers buried into the soft fur.

“Is this… my fur?” Cullen asked on a low voice when he saw it, brows drawing up in surprise.

“It is. It’s a gift, for you,” For a second, Dorian was hesitant, not sure if he’d like it, but the beaming smile loosened the knot in his chest.

“It’s so warm and cozy,” the blond man commented once he had it on. It suited him, the deep red of the cloak’s fabric mixing well with the golden tone of the fur and giving him an almost feral look. “Thank you.” They were standing in a narrow alley between two buildings leading to the central area of Haven, there was nobody else with them, and Cullen took that opportunity to capture Dorian’s lips, not for a soft kiss but with a possessiveness that surprised the witch and made him weak in the knees.

“Let’s go home, _mellitus_ ,” he said with promising eyes before taking off. After a few seconds of bewilderment, Dorian hurried after him.

“ _Kaffas_ , you can’t just kiss me and run off like that!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	14. Steel glinting in the fire’s remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the hardest one to write, that’s for sure. I had to edit it for hours because some parts were all over the place. There might still be some mistakes hidden (or in plain sight, which wouldn't surprise me), but I feel satisfied enough to publish it.
> 
> Edit: The wonderful fanwork was made by [Mica Sky](http://mica-sky.tumblr.com/post/135967042094/one-day-they-were-laying-in-bed-when-dorian).

Weeks rolled by, and soon, the summer gave way to the freshness of fall. The trees turned into myriads of oranges, yellows and reds, spreading on the ground in a thick blanket. Cullen’s garden gave enough vegetables to last all winter, and they busied themselves by drying them and storing everything in the pantry kept cold at all time with a well-placed ice rune.

The colder weather made it all the more amazing for Dorian to sleep cuddled tightly against Cullen; the sex was as well, but it was the first time Dorian had a partner who wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night, and he loved every moment of it, even the bad ones.

Cullen was in a good mood and laughing with him most of the time, but Dorian would sometimes wake up alone and find him on the porch, naked except for his warm mantle, observing the sunrise as if it could give him all the answers he sought. His friend Cassandra hadn’t written back yet, and it’d been too long to pretend the answer was only delayed.

Dorian thought about the situation as well, how could he not. The starting point was the temple of Mythal, he was almost sure of it. They could go, but Felix had mentioned it was in ruins ever since the Inquisition went, so Dorian doubted it’d be worth the trip, especially with winter so close. He hated that season in the South, it isolated him from the rest of the world even weeks after snow storms, which also meant no customer at all, but no attempt on his life either.

Nevertheless, he’d prepared himself for that blasted cold over the years, buying runes from almost every merchant he could and equipping his house and clothes with them. Cullen laughed at his antics but helped him even if he didn’t need them, being a pure-bred Southerner.

It was an odd notion that he rarely was alone anymore, Cullen was always nearby if not beside him. He found that he didn’t mind it. His control over him allowed him a magical connection that made him aware of him almost all the time; a side-effect that he never used because he had promised him he wouldn’t take advantage of it, ever.

He thought this was a one-way bond, so he was surprised one evening when he felt something tug at the edge of his mind, an odd sensation. It felt like a gentle hand brushing against his skin. Cullen was not with him at the time, he was cleaning himself after a day of chopping wood, but he knew right away it was him. Had Cullen ever done this before without him realizing, if the bond worked both ways?

The warrior came back shortly after, blond curls still heavy with water. His eyes brightened up when he saw Dorian, a reaction he didn’t think he’d ever get used to.

“Did you do that thing, a moment ago?” The witch asked him right away, letting go of the book he’d been trying to read.

He got his answer when Cullen gently stroked the same place with his finger. “Yes.”

“If you knew the bond is working both ways, why not say something sooner?” Dorian wasn’t angry, but he wanted to know the truth. They’d been living together for months now, after all.

“I already had to get used to my human body at the beginning, I didn’t know it wasn’t normal until recently as it grew stronger. Sometimes I can… feel your magic.”

“How exactly?”

“Every time you use it, I feel a spark, and I’m always aware of your location, even when I can’t see you.”

“And how were you able to touch me?”

“I’m not sure.” Cullen shrugged, visibly uncomfortable with talking about something he didn’t fully understand. “I felt a link connecting us, I simply followed it up to you and touched you.”

“I have that same connection to you, but I thought it was my control over you and not a bond, so I didn’t want to exploit it. I had no clue you could feel it too.”

 “Try it,” Cullen said with confidence, stepping back.

Dorian nodded and closed his eyes. Now that he finally focused on the bond, he could sense feelings that weren’t his own, faint enough that he could ignore them or amplify them at will. Echoes of thoughts and memories; bronze skin and pale eyes. He probed further in and was rushed in a memory of something cool sliding down his throat. He was drowning, and he needed more. He needed…

“Stop.” Cullen took a breath.

“I’m sorry. Was this lyrium?”

“Yes. I… I’d forgotten how addictive it is.”

“But you’re past this now,” he finally said, squeezing his hand and earning a small smile in return.

One day, they were laying in bed when Dorian noticed the tattoo on Cullen’s thigh had changed. The Pavus crest was fading and tendrils of Mythal’s Vallaslin were invading it, swirling around the snake and the peacock. This wasn’t supposed to happen, Dorian had taken over the mark, but visibly it was fighting back, ready to absorb the Pavus crest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dorian inquired, investigating the change. Cullen only had fine blond hairs on his thighs, soft to the touch with firm muscles rolling under the skin. Dorian knew very well by now how these muscles could be of use.

“I didn’t want to trouble you with this, you’re already searching so hard for a solution.” The warrior was actually blushing a bit at the probing so close to his groin, a shy endeavor that charmed Dorian every time.

“Hiding things won’t help either.”

“Unless you can alter or slow down the process, there’s no need to trouble yourself with it at the moment. You can always change me back, if I become a lion again.”

“Change you back? By Andraste’s flaming knickers,” Dorian shook his head. “Let me try something first before that.”

There was passion laced in his voice, and it made Cullen blush even more before he nodded in agreement. Dorian followed the small branches in the design with a finger, taking a deep breath before focusing. He projected his magic in the Vallaslin, meeting his own signatures laced with an older, ancient one. He thought he’d completely annihilated it but it was proving to be stronger that ever, slowly eating his own magic away. It was already fighting his probing, pushing back when he tried to encircle it.

Cullen hissed in surprise and pain. Dorian immediately retracted his magic, concerned. A patch of skin on his thigh was turning red and even blistering a bit.

“I think I got burnt,” Cullen said, inspecting the small area with a frown.

“I’m so sorry,  _mellitus_. Here.” He lowered his hand’s temperature and gently applied it on the irritated skin. “It’s taking control over you again.” He sighed, lost as to how he could fight it without hurting Cullen in the process.

“What if you try to modify the mark again?” The warrior suggested. His face was showing he was hurt.

“I don’t know,” Dorian admitted. “I’m unsure of the outcome, but I can try if you wish to.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Dorian sent a minor healing spell and even if the burn didn’t disappear, it considerably subsided.

“It might hurt you again,” he warned Cullen.

“I’m willing to take the risk. Pain is temporary, after all.”

Dorian sighed, unsure not in his magical skills, but for Cullen’s surety. He found him a bit carefree about this whole situation, as if not only he didn’t mind the pain, but he was used to it, judged by the scars scattered across his fair skin. He suspected an event made him tougher about it, and the idea didn’t ease his mind.

“I need to get some lyrium potions before I start, then, just in— “

An explosion outside made the whole house shake. One of his glyphs had went off.

“ _Kaffas!” D_ orian bounced on his feet and put on his breeches, lacing them hastily even as he looked for his robes.

Cullen looked through the window and shook his head. “I can’t see anything from here.” He began to dress as well, but he had all his armor to put on, which was always taking a little while.

“Stay here for the moment. If you hear combat, come help me, but stay hidden otherwise.”

For a second, he thought Cullen would protest, but he closed his mouth and nodded.

Dorian strode to the front door, seeing nobody through the window. He took his staff and opened the door.

The smell of burnt flesh hit him. There was nobody visible in this bright but brisk afternoon’s light, except for charred remains where one of his fire glyphs once stood. He still checked around to be sure before stepping down the few stairs of the porch to examine the corpse.

Even in this state, it was easy to see how malnourished the body had been; the clothes covering it, threaded to the cord. There was only so much fire could damage.

Dorian began to feel guilty. Did they not see his protections and had walked right though them without meaning any threat? It couldn’t be anyone aware of his reputation, if so. What was more troublesome were the elvish ears, still almost intact. A city elf, then? Dorian frowned at that thought, because even if poor, the city elves he saw could take care of themselves. The last possibility remaining…

An arrow landed viciously in his arm, making his scream in pain and surprise. A barrier cast on himself out of reflex protected him from another one aiming for his leg.

Soldiers stepped out of the forest, wearing the sigil of the Inquisition and their weapons raised. Dorian scoffed, trying his best not to move his injured arm.

“Using slaves as baits now?”

“A prisoner of war,” one corrected. He had the biggest armor of the lot, so he must’ve been the one with the highest rank.

“If that’s what you call them.” So they’d used this to lure him out of the house. He tried to count how many soldiers were in front of him, but there was too many. Perhaps a dozen, perhaps more. “But you didn’t come all the way here to get rid of your  _prisoners of war_.”

“No, you’re right.” He gestured to his archers to hold. “You are to come to Skyhold with us.”

“You need me alive, now?” Usually it was threats of him ending on a stake and burnt alive.

“Inquisitor’s orders.”

“Samson.” Cullen appeared beside Dorian, fully armored with his sword and shield, his face somber.

“Well well. Cullen Rutherford. Everyone thought you were dead.”

“And you were expulsed of the Templar Order, last I knew.” Cullen’s voice was strained, his hand tight on his sword handle. There was more to the story of Samson’s expulsion, perhaps he was one of the Templars taking red lyrium that he’d mentioned.

“You disappeared years ago and now you’re with a witch now, Rutherford. Things change. Have you fallen under his spell?”

Dorian scowled, his patience thinning. It was cold outside, despite his heavy robes, and he was losing sensation in his nose at this point.

“I’m not,” Cullen was saying. “He’s not evil. We were told lies, Samson, not every witch is the same.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Samson spat. “Help me or not, he’s to be taken to Skyhold.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” He didn’t need to hear more. He threw Blinding Terror on the lot before casting a searing fireball without missing a beat, taking advantage of the surprise. It hit some of the soldiers with full force, sending them scrambling around, disoriented. He wished he’d have more time to cast a firestorm that’d deal more damage, but a soldier was already charging towards him after he dodged the attack.

Cullen jumped in the fight right away and blocked a hit meant for Dorian. The latter renewed the barrier, including Cullen in it. He threw a fireball at an archer who was preparing his bow before approaching him and smashing the blunt head of his staff across the unprotected face, gritting his teeth as pain erupted in his injured arm. He ignored it and plunged the staff’s blade in his heart, killing him right away.

He was turning around to face the remaining enemies when he was hit with a Silence. It wasn’t the first time he was silenced, but to be cut completely from the Fade was a feeling no witch would ever be used to. He staggered back, catching Cullen’s form from the corner of his eyes as the warrior was fighting a few soldiers at once.

He suddenly howled in pain despite being away from the others, tumbling in the dirt even as his sword was encased in someone’s armpit where his armor pieces joined. Bones began to crack, limbs distorting, with fur sticking out from everywhere. He was transforming.

With a scream, Samson charged at Dorian with his greatsword, and Dorian dodged. There was a dead soldier’s sword laying on the ground nearby, steel glinting in the fire’s remains. Dorian didn’t think twice and rolled in the dirt to pick it up, feeling the swish of air that Samson’s weapon made right by his ear.

“A witch handling a sword? Did Rutherford teach you some tricks?” Samson snorted. He wasn’t paying attention to the fight happening beside them, and honestly, Dorian wasn’t either. He could hear grunts and screams and roars, but his lack of magic was making everything feel off, disorienting him, and Samson was leaping at him again, murder in his eyes.

He fought as best as he could, blood rushing in his ears, but Samson was better at closed combat and played dirty. Dorian could only hope that his mana came back or Cullen killed the others so he could help him. The arrow was still stuck in his arm, but the shaft had been broken earlier and he could feel the steel shifting as the fight continued.

“I thought you needed me alive,” he spoked as he dodged another attack, trying to save some time.

“Accidents happen. The Inquisitor won’t mind one less mage in Thedas.”

“What about one less Templar?”

A lion jumped on Samson, sending him in the dirt. The Templar yelped. His armor was stopping him from moving, and soon his screams were drowned in a gurgle once Cullen took a bite of his unprotected neck, severing the artery. Samson looked at the animal with fear until he took his last breath.

Dorian shuddered, dropping the sword from his clammy hand, and fell on his knees. He had a few cuts and bruises other than his arm wound, but he was physically fine otherwise. His mental, however, was another issue. The Silence, along with the whole fight, had drained him.

Cullen did a quick survey around to make sure nobody was lurking behind a tree. He then came towards Dorian, blood still dripping from his muzzle.

“Are you alright, beside the whole lion thing?” With his uninjured arm, he scratched his twitching ear. “Mythal’s hold on you took over as soon as Samson Silenced me, I apologize.”

The front yard was a mess, corpses littering all over with Cullen’s armor pieces, some of them dented and possibly impossible to repair.

“Let’s go inside to change you back. We’ll deal with this mess later.” With a hand still buried in Cullen’s soft mane, they went in. His magic was already coming back, and drinking a lyrium potion accelerated the process. Dorian removed his bloody, sweaty robes and installed himself on the bed to be more comfortable.

“That probably will drain me,  _Amatus,_  so don’t fret if I lose consciousness,” Dorian warned the lion sitting in front of him. The latter nodded, shifting so Dorian would have access to the mark.

He cast the spell and pushed his magic through the unknown’s tendrils, trying to find the source of their power to cut it off, but it was like a maze. There was no end, no beginning, so he let go, hoping for the best. He knew it succeeded when the lion began to convulse, whining and yelping.

Just as he was welcomed by the darkness, he felt a hand against his cheek.

When he woke up, it was much later, the sun invisible behind the trees from the window. His arm had been bandaged and he was tucked neatly under the covers. No sign of fur. He still felt like shit, but at least no one else was about to die today, hopefully.

“Dorian.” Cullen came in the room and sat beside him. He was human again and seemed uninjured, a sight which made Dorian smile as a knot in his stomach loosened.

Cullen looked at the witch for a long moment, eyes impossible to read. Finally, he took his hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“I have to go to Skyhold,” he stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr: [Captain Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	15. Frozen Red Block

> _All winter will possess my being: wrath,_  
>  _Hate, horror, shivering, hard, forced labor,_  
>  _And, like the sun in his polar Hades,_  
>  _My heart will be no more than a frozen red block._ _  
> _—Song of Autumn, Baudelaire__

_I have to go to Skyhold_. These words resonated in Dorian’s mind for a few seconds before he actually understood their meaning.

“Oh.” Of course Cullen wanted to leave after this whole event, and he’d be alone once more. “Because of the attack?”

Cullen nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but the attack confirmed that something needs to be done.”

“It’s not the first time this was happening, and I doubt it’ll be the last.”

“Another reason for me to leave at once.”

“Why not go together then?” Dorian sat up straight, gripping Cullen’s hand tighter.

“It’d be way too dangerous,” was Cullen’s immediate response as he shook his head.

“For me, or for you? After all, if I lose my magic, you lose your human form.”

Cullen squinted at him, unnerved. “You know this is not the reason. They would detect your magic right away and capture you without a chance for explanation, and it could be worse if they think I’m dead.”

The witch sighed, defeated. “And to reappear together would make them think I resurrected you to keep you as my pet.”

“I need to let the Inquisitor know that not all witches are evil. They need to stop hunting you.”

“I doubt anything will change their mind, to be honest.”

“That is what I don’t understand, she never was this reckless when I was the commander, something must have happened for the whole Order to change to the radical way it is now.”

Dorian gathered his thoughts for a moment, observing the way his lover’s shoulders were slumped.

“I need to go, love, it doesn’t make sense.”

Dorian understood, he really did, but that didn’t mean he had to like the idea. He bit his lips and got up under Cullen’s watchful eyes. “Fine. You go then.”

He put on his warm coat and stepped outside, his breath catching in the cold air. He intended on taking his frustration on the corpses, but Cullen already had grouped them together in front of the house, with weapons and shields neatly lined aside. Vultures were circling the pile, croaking loudly.

“Any good looting?” He idly asked Cullen behind him.

“Some, yes. I brought it inside.”

“Keep it, it might be useful for your trip.”

“Dorian…” Cullen began, but the witch didn’t hear the rest over the sudden roar of the fire he magically created. Burnt bodies smelled the worst, but these Templars didn’t deserve a proper resting place. He didn’t realize how high it was until Cullen placed his hand on his shoulder and pointed at the trees nearby, their leaves way closer than what was secured.

“You’ll burn the whole forest if you continue like this.”

Deep blue flames were sparkling through the red, meaning it would be uncontrollable if he continued to feed it. With a flick of his wrist, he created a barrier around the corpses, trapping the fire inside and creating a most peculiar sight in front of the house. At least the garden hadn’t been touched by the attack, too far on the side.

“There.”

Cullen looked at him with an expression Dorian took a moment to determine, and when he did, he started fumed.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped. “You’re the one leaving me.”

Cullen exhaled loudly. “You think this is easy for me?”

“It sure looks like it. You had this same thought in your head the whole time, didn’t you?”

“That’s not true-”

“Let me tell you something” Dorian interrupted him. “You keep saying that this Lavellan is nice and all, but suddenly you get transformed into a lion and, oh dear Andraste, it appears she’s not so nice anymore?” He let out an exclamation. “Did it not cross your mind that, maybe, she wanted to get rid of you?”

Cullen frowned. “I knew her well enough, never did she look anything else but genuine in her demeanor and decisions.”

“So you’re saying.”

“By the Maker, haven’t you realized?” Cullen hissed, angry at Dorian’s childish denial. “This situation is driving me mad. Something terrible happened to the Inquisition, is happening right now to the witches because of it, but here I am, useless without any memories to help or any clue if I’ll end up an animal for the rest of my life. Yet despite everything else, do you know what nags at me the most?”

He’d walked up to him until there was no space left between them, chest heaving, but Dorian wasn’t scared of him. He met his angry gaze full on, his hands closed in fists at his sides.

“What then? You got trapped by a witch who could order you to stay?”

“No. I was  _saved_  by a witch and fell in love with him. I fell in love with you, Dorian, and now I can’t bear the thought of leaving you.”

Dorian’s breath caught in his throat. “You love-?”

“Yes, you blind witch, I love you. I want you to stay here because it’d kill me to lose you.” Cullen’s large hands were warm on his cheeks, as were his lips when they fell on his, kissing him with a hunger that made Dorian’s knees buckle. He gripped Cullen’s hair and returned the kiss with all his might, clinging to him.

“ _Te amo, amatus, te amo,_ ” he breathed between kisses, not even realizing he was speaking his native language. He was light-headed with euphoria and Cullen’s fervor. They managed to make it inside, but the fur carpet before the fireplace was closer than the bed. Dorian pushed Cullen on it and straddled his lap, kissing him senseless. He moaned when Cullen’s mouth latched onto his neck, kissing and licking his way down his tattoo. Dorian shivered and stopped the warrior for a moment to relieve him of his tunic, almost ripping it in his haste.

Cullen laughed and opened the witch’s breeches and smalls in return, wrapping his hand around his cock without waiting.

“Already hard?” He said with a smirk on those scared lips. He urged him to lean forward, and it didn’t take long before those lips took the place of his hand, sucking on the leaking, red head. Dorian could only grab strands of the fur as his soul was sucked out of his body. He closed his eyes under the pleasure and did not hear Cullen over the rush in his ears until he blew on his spit-slicked balls.

“Promise me something, Dorian.” Cullen’s large fingers were hot and everywhere, pumping him and teasing his entrance and gripping his ass so hard he was sure it’d leave bruises for days.

“...What?” It was not fair, the way he left open-mouthed kisses along the length before swallowing around him, smiling when he felt it throb. Dorian whined and wanted to move, but Cullen gripped his hips to continue at a slow pace, golden eyes turning commanding. To be manhandled like this sent another shiver down his spine.

Cullen slurped as he came back for air, taking him in hand instead. “Promise me you’ll stay here, love.” He laid a kiss down with each word, making Dorian hazy with pleasure. “Promise me you won’t try to follow me.”

“How am I supposed to think properly-“ Dorian began, but the rest of this sentence turned into a moan when the flat of Cullen‘s tongue licked him all the way from the base up to under the mushroom-like head where it continued to swirl and tease.

“I’m waiting.” Cullen was smirking now, knowing very well what he was doing. Dorian was panting, his dick so hard there mustn’t have any blood left for his brain, hence why he couldn’t even think straight. “Promise me.”

“Andraste’s flaming tits, Cullen, alright I promise! I promise you. Now please, just…”

Cullen didn’t need more than this. He stopped teasing and returned to work. Dorian shifted his balance and buried a hand in his curls, watching intently as he could feel his orgasm approaching.

“You look so hot like this, with my cock in your mouth.” He hadn’t realized he was thinking out loud, but Cullen seemed to appreciate with the way he moaned and jerked his hips, his cock still trapped in the confines of his breeches. He looked up, spit dripping from his mouth, and it was Dorian’s ending.

“ _Kaffas_ , fuck!” Cullen understood and began to jerk him off fast. With a shout, Dorian came all over him, white strikes painting his face, a bit even falling on his hair. He felt boneless afterwards, grateful for the way he was helped down on the fur. Cullen took the time to remove all their clothing before getting up to clean the cum off his hair, returning with a vial of something Dorian didn’t bother to check. He was more interested in the muscled ass and the heavy cock bouncing between his toned legs when he strutted around.

“You’re such a tease.” Dorian laughed when he came back. He wasn’t angry though, even if Cullen had played a dirty game. “Making me not think straight to get a promise out of me.”

Cullen chuckled. “I learned that from you.”

Dorian snorted, turning on his side. “What do you have planned with this now?” He gestured to the oil vial. Blush spread on Cullen’s cheeks and down his chest, something that delighted him when he’d just given him one of the best blowjobs of his life.

“It’s to prepare myself. I want you to take me.”

Dorian’s dick twitched in sudden interest. He grinned. “How do you want to do this?”

“Come here.” Dorian sat on his calves and Cullen placed his thighs on his so his ass rested right against his knees, supporting most of his weight on his legs, and he leaned back on an elbow. His puckered entrance was exposed to the witch, and he didn’t waste time in beginning to prepare himself, the muscles in his arm rippling as he drove a first finger in. Dorian knew his mouth was agape, but the sight was mesmerizing, making a quick work of stirring his own cock back to life. He didn’t do anything but watch his pleasured expression and moving digits, stretching and loosening the pink entrance with oil dripping on him and the rug.

Cullen only sighed at first, before he added another finger, and he must’ve found his pleasure spot, for the curses he began to moan were far from being a good Andrastian’s.

“How does it feel, amatus?”

“Good, so good.” His pink cock was leaking, untouched against his stomach. Dorian took pity and grabbed it, keeping his other hand firmly on his hip to keep him steady. Cullen had begun to thrust on his fingers as best as he could, making his whole position precarious, laying most of his weight on Dorian.

“Did you do that a lot, before?” Dorian couldn’t help but try to satiate his curiosity while he could. This game of extorting information could be played at two. Cullen realized what he was doing and huffed a laugh despite his predicament. Dorian swirled his thumb on the slit to spread the precum, making him gasp. “Did you fondle yourself in the dark, or did your chastity vows prevented you from that too?”

“I didn’t take any vows.” He was making a beautiful sight, sweat appearing on his torso and between their thighs, almost making him slip more than once if it hadn’t been for Dorian’s hold on him.

“Interesting.”

Cullen removed his fingers from him and sat up completely on his lap. “Stop talking now.” He positioned himself on Dorian’s cock and descended on it without waiting. He didn’t stop until his dick was all the way in, grumbling.

“Eager, are you?” Dorian’s smirk disappeared when Cullen wriggled and braced himself on his shoulders to begin sliding up and down fervently.

“Oh fuck yes.” Cullen choked on a laugh, easily bouncing on Dorian’s cock with his powerful legs. The witch held on his lower back and encircled his pulsing dick once again, pumping him with vigorous thrusts.

Cullen was striking like this, his red lips opened agape, his breath rendered to small puffs and pants, his hair a mess of curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and neck, the fire giving his fair skin a golden glow. To Dorian, he never looked more beautiful.

He repressed a laugh when he was pushed on his back, Cullen continuing to ride him into oblivion with his hands bracing each side of his head. He loved the contrast of his warm brown skin against Cullen’s, his orgasm coiling at the base of his spine at the sight of his cock disappearing into Cullen. He was so tight and hot and was riding him so good.

“You feel fantastic in me too,” Cullen gasped as he leaned down to kiss him. He’d talked out loud, but by the way Cullen’s cries intensified, it wasn’t a bad thing. “I’m so close.”

Dorian tugged on his shaft, and moments later, Cullen was spasming and clenching around him and coming on Dorian’s chest. He hummed and continued to roll his hips on him through the aftershocks, which wasn’t enough for the witch. He whined in frustration when he wasn’t able to make him budge from him, earning him a grin from Cullen.

They made love over and over, trying to memorize each other’s body. Dorian never wanted to let him go, but it had to be done at some point. Good things weren’t meant to last forever.

Afterward, they snuggled on the fur together, the fire enough to keep them warm. Cullen kissed his temple, tightening his arm around his middle.

“I know I’m being selfish.” Dorian muttered against his shoulder, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He kept dragging his hand over his chest, from the hair over his pectorals down to his stomach, fuzzy and soft.

Cullen twirled one end of his moustache, stroking his cheek and the buzzed hair near his ear. “You’re not. You’ve done so many things for me already, it’s time to reverse the roles.”

“Will you come back, after?” Dorian asked hesitantly, making Cullen looked down at him.

“Is this what troubles you? You think I won’t come back?”

The witch huffed, shrugged. “I’m used to pretty words in the midst of passion before people leave me or I leave them. What we have is… not something I’m accustomed to.”

Cullen slid one of his legs on top of his, half-turning so he could face him. “I had few lovers myself, but I promise you, Dorian, what we have is real. I’ll send you letters and come back to you as soon as I can, no matter what happens.”

The act of sex, Dorian was well-accustomed to it, but the fervor and love in Cullen’s eyes actually made him blush and look away for a few seconds, until he was nodding.

“What will you do, once you’re at Skyhold?” He asked to change the subject. Cullen didn’t mind, for he smiled and began to play with his hair.

“I’ll try to assert the situation and find a familiar face, one of the Inquisitor’s advisors before heading directly to Lavellan.”

Dorian hummed. “Were you close enough that you trust them?”

“We basically were in each other’s presence every day, and even though we constantly disagreed on how to operate, I came to trust them with my life.”

“Good, then.”

They fell asleep shortly after, not letting go of the other. In the morning, Dorian woke up before Cullen. He removed himself from his lover’s arms with difficulty and begin to pack for his trip. If he couldn’t accompany him, he’d made sure that he would have everything he needed, at least.

When he came to his fur mantle, a sleepy voice said behind him: “You should keep it.”

Dorian turned around, brushing the soft wheat-colored fur. “It would spoil my reputation, if I were to be seen with this. I’d become Dorian the Golden.”

Cullen came forward and hugged him, looking at the bag ready for him. “So let it be. Let everyone know you have a golden heart.”

“And let my numerous enemies use this against me? Perish the thought.” Dorian smiled at him and accepted the kiss with a sigh, chuckling when Cullen grabbed his ass and squeezed.

He tried to keep a happy mood, but then he watched Cullen swapping his gear with some from the loot pile. The Templar armor pieces were better than the ones he had, and seeing him wear them left a bitter taste in his mouth. He occupied himself by finding his map of Fereldan, then showed Cullen the road leading to Skyhold. It wasn’t far, and a road had been added to the King’s road in the previous years to help the merchants travel through the Frostback Mountains.

Cullen buried him in a hug once they were outside, the hard lines of his armor digging uncomfortably into Dorian’s chest, but he didn’t complain, only circled his waist with his arms and hugged back just as fiercely. He was content to lay against him for a moment, smelling his hair and kissing his sensitive neck where it wasn’t protected by metal. He’d miss the feeling of those hands on him, his scarred lips against his, the tenderness in those lovely golden eyes.

“Safe travel, and come back to me,” he managed to say, his eyes feeling hot.

“I will,  _amatus_.” Dorian choked on a laugh at the terrible accent and kissed him until they were both breathless. Cullen smiled at him one last time, the feeling not quite reaching his eyes. His gloved hands squeezed Dorian ring-clad’s ones for a moment longer before he departed, walking by the ashes left by the templars’ corpses.

As he reached the edge of the trees, he looked behind his shoulder, his eyes full of sorrow and anguish. Dorian almost yelled to stay with him, but instead he waved at him, sending magical butterflies his way. Cullen chuckled when one landed in his hair, and continued his way, quickly disappearing from view.

Dorian tightened his grip on the fur mantle. He was alone. It was only now that he realized how bloody cold it was that day despite the sun in the clear sky. Like his heart, it was only a frozen red block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dorian the Golden is a reference to Gandalf the White.
> 
> My tumblr: [Captain Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	16. Anything But Useless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit meh and I’m not satisfied with it even if multiple things happen. I might come back and edit it more at some point, but for now I feel like I’m stabbing the same wound over and over.

Time passed quietly once Cullen left. Customers continued to come to him for their dead problem, he continued to swindle them. He kept finding curly blond hair about everywhere, his other pillow smelled like Cullen, and he found an armor oil kit tucked in the living room’s couch. He pushed it all aside and ignored it - except for the pillow. When he felt really nostalgic, he liked to hug it against him and bury his nose in it, falling asleep to the scent of his lover.  
  
Winter was definitely here now, a thick layer of snow falling one night and making the whole forest silent, as if he was alone in this lost part of the world. And it was true, or at least for most of the time.  
  
“Life's greatest enemy is death, for it is inevitable. Many accept it, others fight it. One's bones are the center of its body, they are its foundations. The soul is attracted to them, sticks to them as it allows the flesh to embrace them. If the body is formed again, the soul can be reattached to it, as it has its mark carved in it. I have the ability to put back together soul and bones, but it does come with a heavy price. Are you willing to pay it?"  
  
The couple, in their elegant outfits weighted down with jewelry, agreed easily. They both were stiff, not even displaying any emotion when they gave him the bag of gold. They wanted their son back not out of love, but because they needed grand-children and didn't have any other children to ask. They reminded him of his own parents. They guided the newly resurrected man in their carriage - because of course, they wouldn't walk in a forest, and he put the gold in his vault before they were even out of sight. They probably would order the poor man to give his seed and wouldn't come back when they'd find him dead one morning, returned to ashes.  
  
He'd had the same attitude as well, at some point in the past. Not giving a second glance at something he didn't deem important enough, raising his nose high at the sight of the poor and the slaves and the  _unfashionable_ , but for what? To keep appearances? Inside he'd been dead, his smiles devoid of sentiments and twisting the thorns in his chest. A glance was all it needed during social events to get a companion in a nearby closet, leaving his sexual needs satisfied, but not his heart's, and it became worst with every wedding proposal he rejected from perfect possible wives. Perfect, as per his parents' opinion, at least, because they revealed to have awful personalities every time he was forced to a dinner with them.  
  
Some of them even took the quest of trying to cure him by throwing themselves at him at the first chance. As if there was something to be fixed in him, when it was the prejudices of Tevinter that needed to change. He discovered that only way later, however, when he was seasick in a ship leading to Fereldan.

Barely able to keep any food in, he met the captain of the ship when she put a bottle of some strong alcohol in his hands, telling him that this  _eau-de-vie_  would help him for the rest of the trip. And it did, as much as she did. He didn't have anything to do other than to read his books, and he'd read them all already, so he talked with Isabella when she wasn't busy. Learning a bit of her story made him realize that there was nothing wrong with him but the country he was born in, and that some people had worst sex stories than him.  
  
Isabella told him a bit about her life and that, sometimes, sacrifices needed to be made in order to be happy. It wasn't like he meant to leave the country, but after his father kept him prisoner for months before attempting a blood magic ritual on him, he deemed it safer to just go as far as possible, and Ferelden seemed like a good choice at the time. Any respectable Tevinter hated the country of the dog lords, and it was his best bet that they'd think he left for Antiva or Rivain.  
   
Of course Dorian didn't know about the witches' reputation in the South, otherwise he might have changed his plan, but he preferred to live like a pariah rather than as someone he wasn't. He first arrived to live at Redcliffe, but it was where the Inquisition first began to hunt for witches, and he was almost caught during that time. He fled, Templars hot on his heels, but he managed to escape them with a few spells they didn't know about. Thank these barbarians for their lack of knowledge on the North.  
  
He moved to Haven shortly after, then made arrangements there to buy the house in the middle of the forest, owned at the time by some Orlesian noble. The village was more hospitable than Redcliffe ever had been, but he feared some of the locals would divulge his identity to the Inquisition with time. His business had come after, and now his reputation spread even to the snobs' ears, it seemed. All the better, he didn't feel guilty to rob them of their money.  
  
 

With Cullen gone for more than a week, he kept being anxious at all hours of the day and night, but he focused on the tasks he could do, like finding a permanent cure to the curse. He read the books he'd ordered but hadn't had the chance to get a look into yet. Books about the Dalish culture, mostly, with the myths on their gods. As with the Maker and Andraste's origins, myths couldn't be confirmed, and many contradicted one another, but it expanded some of his theories. Mythal wasn't only the goddess of protection, she was also Justice and Vengeance. Fen'Harel, the dread wolf, was very close to her also. Maybe he could ask to Solas to tell him more. Even if the elf wasn't Dalish, he still knew more on the subject than him.  
  
A few days later, he received a package from Tevinter. Dread filled him at the thought of his father finding him, but it wasn’t the Pavus family crest. It was from Gereon Alexius, Felix's father.  
  
_Dear Dorian,_  
  
_I wish I would've used the knowledge of your adress for another purpose than what I'm about to tell you. We knew that, sooner or later, this day would come, but Felix passed away a few days ago._  
  
Dorian stopped reading, for his eyes were blind with tears. He knew this would happen and had prepared for it, but his heart still broke at the news. He sat heavily in the couch of the living room, pressing a fist against his mouth as tears ran freely down his face and sobs overtook his body. It took several minutes before he could calm down enough to fetch a tissue and clean his face. With a deep shuttering sigh, he continued to read.  
  
_I won't get into details, but there was only so much magic and science can do, and only so much Felix was able to endure, and he decided it was time to go. I didn't try to make him change his mind, for it wasn't my place to choose._  
  
_Through his last moments, he continued researching for your cause. He told me it was important for you, and wished for me to send this letter to you once he was gone._  
  
_He will be buried this next Saturday, the last of Cassus, and I shall make a libation in your name._  
  
_I hope you find what you're looking for._  
  
_Gereon Alexius_

Felix’s letter was wrinkled, the handwriting shaky and barely readable at some places. His hands were damaged a lot, so it was a miracle Felix had been able to even write the letter himself without the use of a scribe.  
  
_Dorian,_  
  
_I wanted to meet you in the Fade to tell you this, but I can barely sleep anymore, let alone dream. Instead I do more research for your cause in the comfort of my bed, because what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to mope and wait to die when I knew I could help you. Besides, you won't believe the things I found._

 _I continued to research on the Dalish but didn't found anything, so instead I turned to the red lyrium. Why would all the Templars be taking this instead of the less dangerous blue version?_  
  
_To get the answer, I reached a red lyrium expert who was a bit reluctant to part with the information, but a few coins are always convincing enough. One doesn't need to ingest the red lyrium to become addicted to it, being near a source is enough, and it gives greater abilities than the blue kind. Its second effects, however, are devastating on the long term, slowly invading the organs and turning them to red lyrium with the host losing their mind. The expert also revealed to me that it's tainted with some kind of dark magic they didn't even taught us in the Circles, but that dark magic would be able to control weaker minds if someone knew how to handle it._  
  
_I'm guessing that this Lavellan Inquisitor is controlling the Templars that way, but it doesn't explain her change of demeanor or her sudden thirst for blood and power. I wished I could have found a proper answer, but I hope this will still help you._  
  
_Goodbye old friend, and take care of yourself,_  
  
_Felix Alexius_  
  
Dorian exhaled slowly, trying hard to keep more tears at bay. His friend had spent his last days researching for him, and he apologized for not helping more. What kind of man was he to ask that of him?  
  
He reread the letter a few times to understand the full meaning. Red lyrium controlled the Templars, and the Inquisitor was controlling the red lyrium in some way with dark magic. To think she was killing all the witches, was this some sort of self-hate, or a way to be certain she was the only one able to reign over the world? At least one thing was sure now, the red lyrium was very dangerous, and Cullen was walking towards it.

Some liquor was calling his name, and it seemed fitted to dilute his sorrow in it. It numbed the pain of the loss of his best friend, for whom he never could do anything but watch him die. He finished the bottle too quickly, then opened another. He fell asleep before reaching the half of it.

He dreamed he was back in Tevinter, reading on a couch while eating grapes out of a slave's hand and drinking wine, spicy like only his mother country knew how to make it, and he glowed in the memory for a moment before he realized the slave had Cullen’s face. He kept looking at him with heat in his eyes, a desire that made his own groin stir. He sighed, disappointed that the dream would end this way, and set the demon on fire. It wasn't even fun anymore to dismiss demons with Cullen's face, it was just boring. They needed to change tactic.  
  
"Dorian," Cullen's voice came from behind him, and he sighed in annoyance.  
  
"One isn't enough, you come in pairs now?" He grumbled as he turned around. He was already casting when the blond man came before him, placing a warm hand against his cheek.  
  
"Dorian, it's me. I'm not a demon," the voice was definitely Cullen's, that accent never so well imitated by the demons.  
  
Dorian frowned, and it dawned on him. "The mark's work?"  
  
"Apparently, it allows me to enter your dreams."  
  
"Did it happen before?"  
  
Cullen shrugged, but the faint blush betrayed him. "Maybe." He smiled and wrapped his arms around him, Dorian welcoming his hug with a sigh of contentment.  
  
"These times when I thought I was being called, it was you then." So their connection had begun to work right after he put his mark on Cullen's thigh. He wondered if any other vallaslin worked the same way, and if the gods were able to control or reach their slaves with it.   
  
"Where are you at,  _amatus_?"  
  
"At Skyhold. The Inquisitor is away on some quest in the Free Marches." Cullen looked distraught, frustrated. "I am to wait until her return."  
  
"How are things there?" Dorian asked. He wanted nothing more than to warn him about the lyrium, tell him to come back, but he feared it was too late already.  
  
"Odd. Most of the Templars are taking red lyrium, and they seem agitated and fidget a lot, I’d say that they seem a little out of their mind, even,” Cullen said, before frowning. “I tried to find some of the Inner Circle's members, but I can't find them and I’m constantly being watched. I asked to see Cassandra, and one of them told me she was away with Lavellan, but I know when I’m being lied to." He rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope nothing happened to them, if they recognized Lavellan’s tyranny and tried to make her see reason or tried to get away.” Like he was trying to do, but Dorian didn’t comment on it.  
  
"I see. To me, it looks like…"  
  
"I'm a prisoner, I know. I'm beginning to feel that way too." He sighed. "I'm at an impasse as to what to do."  
  
It had been foolish for Dorian to let him go alone, they should have asked for some non-witch backup at least, go to Haven. The Chargers might have accepted the contract, might still do. "Maybe I could…" Dorian began, but Cullen's glare stopped him.  
  
"Don't you dare come over and try to get yourself killed. I can take care of this on my own. I'm sure everything will return to normal once I talk to Lavellan."  
  
Dorian couldn't help but flinch a bit at those words, even though he knew Cullen didn't mean anything by them. "Return to normal, you say?"’  
  
"Yes, and that is to have you at my side." Cullen's smile reassured him, and he felt foolish for the constant self-doubt nagging at him.  
  
"I feel useless right now," he admitted.  
  
"You're anything but useless, love, don't ever doubt about that."  
  
They hugged and parted, for the warrior was about to disappear from the Fade. 

It was reassuring to meet Cullen like this, but nerve-wrecking at the same time, because the witch didn’t know if there would be a next time, if something would happen or if, one morning he'd wake up to nothing, their connection lost forever because Cullen had died.

These were thoughts he tried to not think about, but the scenarios came back multiple times the following days when he didn't get a visit in his dreams again. His only reassurance was that the bond still existed, he could still feel echoes of his lover’s feelings.

 

The next day found him on his way to Haven for his weekly delivery, health poultices clinking together in his pouch and the snow screeching underneath his boots.

A few snowflakes were falling, landing on his head and slowly covering him, but at least it wasn’t cold. Snow days were never cold, it was calm and quiet and it felt like he was alone in the world.

Perhaps he’d pay a visit to the Chargers later, drink some of that awful ale with them and indulge in a few games of cards. Right as he was thinking about this, an overwhelming need to throw up took hold of him. He’d been fine until that moment, but in an instant his insides were on the verge to go outside. He retched and leaned against a nearby tree before he released the content of his stomach on the ground. Something else was stuck in his teeth, and he spat it out with a grimace.  
  
It was red, and glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I checked about everywhere to know the exact location of Skyhold, but couldn't find anything other than it's somewhere in the Frostback Mountains. I guess that it would take a week or a week and a half to get there from Haven, as I don't imagine the whole of them in the game walking for a month in the snow before finding Skyhold. 
> 
> My Tumblr: [Captain Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/)


	17. What should we live for?

The red lyrium glowed through the snow, red and dangerous. Dorian heaved again, but for a different reason. Cullen's meeting with the Inquisitor apparently didn't end positively, judged by the fact they were now trying to feed him lyrium. This was not happening, not when Dorian knew about this and was so far away from him.  
  
First he had to calm down. Vomiting left him tired, but he took a minute to cover the mess with some snow first, for no one could discover it. He made himself a seat against another tree and sat down. His head was pounding, his body felt heavy and feverish, and he didn't know if those symptoms were his or Cullen's. He sent a minor healing spell through the bond just in case, hoping it'd reach Cullen through. The feelings he received back were overwhelming - fear, disgust, revulsion, but most of all, anger.  
  
" _Vishante kaffas_." He drank some water to rinse out the worse of the taste and ate some dried meat that was meant for later, but he needed to get back his energy. He was a little more than halfway to Haven, perhaps an hour and a half away, and he could ask for help there. After some pondering, he went and dug back the red lyrium from the snow, making sure not to touch it directly even though it came out of his mouth, and put it in a small pouch he kept at his belt for herb gathering.  
  
He walked as fast as he dared in the snow, not wishing to lose sight of the road either. Who could help him? There was a few he could ask, but he wasn't sure if they'd accept. Solas always had been rightful in his opinions, and if he explained what was happening to Cullen, perhaps he'd accept, and if not, he could provide a few advices of his own at least.  
  
He needed a warrior too. He would ask Iron Bull, he was ready to promise him coin even if he didn't bring much with him. The Qunari hadn't been there when Cullen and him had last went to the tavern, but he could tell him he'd been right, coax his esteem a bit to get help. He was the leader of the Chargers, but he feared the whole lot would bring nothing but attention. A smaller party would be better for this, if they were to enter Skyhold.  
  
Because that's what Dorian wanted to do. Enter the hold, sneaking or bracing arms if need be, and rescue Cullen. No, that'd be suicide. Even if he was almost shaking with stress over Cullen, enough of his mind remained to let him know his plan was utter foolishness. There had to be a way to help, and there was no way he'd give up without even trying. Of course there were a lot of risks to walk straight into the compound of those who were trying so hard to get rid of him, but they always underestimated him and wouldn't suspect this.  
  
He had to stop two other times to spit out red lyrium, disgusted with whoever was giving it to Cullen but also relieved their connection somehow prevented the warrior from being affected by it. Witches weren't affected the same way by lyrium, as it was absorbed by their mana pool. So far he wasn't affected by the red kind, which was a very good thing, and he hoped to never know if his magic could be affected by it. What else were they doing to Cullen?  
  
His only comfort was that he'd felt if something was happening to him. So far, he was only feeling despair, but no hurt, so that meant no physical torture.  
  
He sighed with relief once he caught sight of Haven's mill. He was already tired of the puking and the fast walking, but his resolve kept steel. He went to the village's healer to trade his health poultices before heading to Solas' house. He needed to explain what was happening to someone, and if the elf didn't want to help him, at least he could offer him some insight on the situation.  
  
"Hello, Dorian." Solas' calm aura did nothing but make Dorian more anxious.  
  
"I need your help again, Solas."  
  
Someone else would've smiled, looking smug, but Solas nodded instead with a serious expression. "Come inside."  
  
His house was way bigger than Dorian's, yet it was just an excuse to own even more books, which was fine by him. He'd never seen him with any company or family, so he always wondered how he came to live in this place, but Haven was an odd village.  
  
"Tea?" Solas offered once they reached the living room.  
  
"Wine, if you have some please."  
  
Solas smiled and nodded, then disappeared for a minute. When he got back, he was bringing cheese, ham and bread along with the wine.  
  
"Thank you." Dorian didn't realize until how hungry he was until his stomach growled, but he forced himself to eat conveniently. He still had manners.  
  
"Now, I believe it has to do with the lion you successfully transformed into a human again. Explain me what happened."  
  
Dorian sighed around a piece of cheese, then began to tell him everything, starting from the spell he used on Cullen to the Templars attack about two weeks ago to his reason to leave up to his imprisonment at Skyhold.  
  
"Did Cullen tell you how he actually became a lion?"  
  
"He didn't remember, so I asked a friend of mine to investigate on this, and he told me that three years ago, the Inquisition went to the temple of Mythal in search of something, and Cullen was declared dead in action soon after this."  
  
Solas pursed his lips. "The temple of Mythal holds the Well of Sorrow, and whoever walks into it shall gain immense knowledge. It has been guarded by Mythal's servants for thousands of years."  
  
Dorian frowned. "So the Inquisitor walked into the Well and what? It drove her crazy?"  
  
"Or she gained enough power to reveal her true plans."  
  
"This doesn't explain why she would change Cullen into a lion. There's something else."  
  
He dug in his pouch and retrieved the piece of red lyrium. "My connection to Cullen makes him immune to red lyrium, but I don't know how long before they realize and try something else."  
  
"May I examine this closer?" He picked the little rock with his bare fingers, unfazed by the weird aura emanating from it. The lyrium reacted to Solas' magic, flashing brighter for a second, then becoming dim. He gave it back quickly after.  
  
"Dark forces are using this to control the Inquisition. Whatever they plan on doing might not only involve us witches anymore. It must be stop, and so I shall accompany you to Skyhold, Dorian."  
  
Dorian closed his eyes, grateful and relieved. "Thank you. We need other persons to join us as well, to balance out our party and so we're not at a disadvantage if we were to be both silenced by Templars."  
  
"I might have something for that." Solas got up and looked for a book, muttering under his breath until he found it. "It is a spell to hide our powers. I read about it some time ago and thought it could be useful with the Templars all around."  
  
"Thank you, Solas, I appreciate your help," Dorian said, not used to saying such things. Solas gave him a thin smile, nodding.  
  
"I know how it is, to fear for your loved ones," he replied, and Dorian wondered once more what Solas' life was before he came to Haven. Dorian was interested to know more about the mysterious elf, perhaps he'd become bald out of worry for someone. Both of them memorising the spell before Solas disappeared in his bedroom to pack his travel bag, leaving Dorian to his thoughts. Felix came to his mind. With all these occurring events, he barely had any moment to mourn his friend. He kept his last letter on himself, as if it was a way to have something of him when all he needed were his memories.  
  
"Who else will you ask for help?" Solas asked once he came back with his light baggage… and two staves? Dorian rose up, eager to leave at once.  
  
"Iron Bull and Krem, I believe the Chargers once were hired by the Inquisition, so they may have some insight on the location."  
  
"A wise choice. I have something for you before we go. I retrieved it on my last travel.”

 

He offered one of the staff to him, which he took after a moment of surprise. At his touch, fire spread across the warm wood.

 

“A fire staff,” he said with wonder in his voice. “You’re just giving it to me?”

 

Solas had a small smile. “I’ve come many artifacts in my travels, I would rather have them come to good use rather than get dusty somewhere. I know your expertise lies in fire spells, and I believe now is a good opportunity to use this staff at its full potential.”

 

“Thank you then. Not only for this, but for your advice as well. I greatly appreciate it.”

 

Solas nodded, gracefully accepting his gratitude. “Lead on, then."  
  
Dorian felt some of the tension in his shoulders go away, now that he wasn't alone in this situation and with a better staff. The tavern wasn't occupied by many at this hour but for the usual patrons. The bard was singing about a lost maiden and her prince, accompanying herself by a lute, and some of the Chargers were watching her performance. Dorian spotted Krem and made his way to him, saluting the other members.  
  
"Altus. It's been a while." Krem and him didn't talk together often except for Dorian to learn he was a Tevinter Soporati, the non-witch social class, but after getting drunk one too many times, there was no more animosity between them.  
  
"I need to see Iron Bull," he said without delay. "Do you know where he is?"  
  
"In his room upstairs, having fun with some redhead I believe. Haven't seen him since yesterday."  
  
"Thank you." He turned to Solas who had been listening. "I'll go get him."  
  
"And I'll wait here. I have no desire to see a naked Qunari."  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Dorian heard Krem ask as he was climbing up the stairs. "You don't know until you tried it."  
  
Someone else was very much trying the Iron Bull at the moment, judging by the sounds. The walls were even shaking, and Dorian felt pity for whoever had rented the nearby rooms.

 

He knocked loudly at the door. "House keeping!"  
  
He heard some curses on the other side. "Go away, we’re busy." A voice that wasn't Bull's yelled back.  
  
"Bull, open the door, I need to talk to you."  
  
There was more swearing, then rustling. "Alright, wait."  
  
The door opened a minute later. Iron Bull was only wearing those ugly trousers, even if it wasn't much less than usual. Dorian caught a glimpse of a lithe man tied to the bed, his groin covered by a bed sheet, and he looked pissed to be interrupted at such a time.  
  
"Dorian, what is it?" Bull asked as if he hadn't been in the middle of fucking someone.  
  
"I need your help. You were right all along, the lion is a human, but he returned to Skyhold and was captured by the red Templars, and now they're trying to feed Cullen red lyrium."  
  
For his merit, the Iron Bull merely blinked slowly. "And how do you know that?"  
  
"I have a connection with him ever since I used a spell to make him human again."  
  
Bull scratched the base of one of his horns in thought. "That's not even the craziest thing I've heard. You want me to come with you to Skyhold and sneak into the most powerful place to save that Cullen?"  
  
Dorian nodded. "That's the idea, yes."  
  
Iron Bull looked behind him, then back at him. "Give me five minutes."  
  
"Thank you, Bull."  
  
Bull clasped his hand on his shoulder, and even if he knew the gesture was meant to be reassuring, Dorian didn't want to know where that hand had been.  
  
"We're friends, and it's the least I can do."  
  
At loss of what to say, Dorian watched Iron Bull disappear back into his room, closing the door behind him. This had been easy. He returned downstairs and joined Solas and Krem who were seated at a different table in a more quiet corner of the tavern.  
  
"Bull will join us in a moment."  
  
"Solas told me about your situation. If that means I get to have a reason to kill some of those Templars, I'm in too."  
  
Convincing them all to join him on this almost-suicide quest had been easier than he thought. He knew the Iron Bull and Krem were used to dangerous missions, and Solas seemed fascinated by studying more red lyrium.  
  
" _Gratias tibi ago_ ," he thanked Krem, who nodded at him. Solas and him continued their conversation, and Dorian zoned out a bit. Stress and fatigue were getting to him.  
  
"Why not bring all the Chargers?" Krem was suddenly asking, and he started.  
  
"We want to be discreet, not bring the fanfare," Bull replied for him, packed and ready to go. "Let me tell the rest of my crew some things before we go."  
  
Dorian saw the man from earlier walk funnily to the door, glaring at him until he disappeared outside. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything involving feelings," he told Bull who shook his head.  
  
"The man wants more than I can offer. You humans always want love, why not enjoy a good fuck and be done with it?"  
  
Solas frowned. "Love isn't a weakness, otherwise what should we live for?" He had such a sad expression on his face than even Bull didn't reply anything, and they sat in silence for a minute before Dorian cleared his throat.  
  
"Shall we go, then?"  
  
"Alright, but I need you to explain me some things on the way."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Bull and Krem already had horses in the tavern's stables, and Dorian and Solas went to buy two other for themselves. Going to Skyhold on foot took about a week, but on horse, the trip would only take three to four days. Dorian was glad for it, but he soon learned his body wasn't used to be on a saddle for a whole day, being thrown around on it was everything but comfortable.  
  
"So, that Cullen…" Bull started beside him, and Dorian threw him a questioning look. So far he'd been playing imaginary chess with Solas.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"Is he your lover?" Bull had only one eye but had extraordinary observation skills.  
  
"He is." No need to explain how deeply he cared for him as well.  
  
"Was it before or after he returned human?"  
  
Dorian scoffed. " _Kaffas,_  Bull, is this a real question?"  
  
"I don't hear a no." Bull grinned at his glare and returned beside Solas to continue their chess game.  
  
  
When they stopped during the second night, Dorian’s legs were feeling like two wooden lumps, and he wasn't talking about his ass.  
  
He did the mistake of whining about it, and Bull grinned widely at the opportunity.  
  
"Let me massage you, it's been a while since I touched that sweet ass of yours."  
  
Dorian groaned a negative, even if a corner of his mind reminded him how dextrous Bull's hands were and what they once did to him... Then he recalled Cullen's and how they felt on his skin; a stroke on his cheek or wrapped around his cock to bring him to orgasm. He turned his face away from the fire, hiding his look of wanton he knew had crossed on it.  
  
There was also the fact he wasn't feeling him as much as he used to. Perhaps Cullen was sleeping, but he hadn't not felt anything before. At least he hadn't been sputtering more red lyrium on the way, which was a better sign than no sign.  
  
Speaking of which, Bull had been asking him about the Inquisition's situation. The Chargers had a contract a few years ago, but they didn't like how the organization was being managed and left despite the good pay.  
  
"They might have fed you red lyrium too, if you stayed," Solas commented.  
  
Krem grunted. "The way you described it, the Templars are now slaves to the Inquisition. And here I thought I wouldn't see any more slave once I left Tevinter."  
  
"We are not certain if they have any clarity left, or if they are solely driven by red lyrium and black magic. Not that I'm truly curious to know."  
  
"I'm off to sleep." Bull rose up. "We should be near Skyhold at dawn, the best time to sneak in."  
  
All bid Dorian goodnight at some point, and he was left alone to stare into the fire's dying embers. Tomorrow seemed too far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Gratias tibi ago_ = Thank you
> 
> I'm [Captain Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	18. Where the lion was held back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is a lad in distress and Dorian, the witch in shining armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who had to run around Skyhold and jump from all corners of the map to get this chapter right? I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as it was difficult to write. :)

"There's a lot more security than I thought there would be," Iron Bull commented out loud.  
  
"It could be worse, Bull," Krem said, "remember that time in Antiva where you had to pretend to be an exotic dancer?"  
  
"Thank you for the comforting words, but now is not the time for stories," Dorian snapped. They had hidden their horses about an hour away from walk and were now on a small hill nearby Skyhold with a view on the bridge. Templars were patrolling the area, so far they'd counted four of them, but there probably were more.  
  
Dorian didn't have a sword, but he knew how to use his staff in close combat. Bull and Krem were both using two-handed weapons, meaning someone fast enough could bypass them and come at the mages. He wished for a second he asked the help of a rogue, but it was too late now, and beside, his favorite archer was off in Orlais on some Red Jenny’s business.  
  
“So what do we do, Boss?” It took Dorian a few seconds to realize Iron Bull was talking to him, and he rose his eyebrows. He was the leader of the Chargers, whereas he’d never attempted any mission of this sort. Usually he was escaping these places, not trying to sneak in them, and he always had been on his own, so this was a bit ridiculous Bull would ask him for advice.

“Didn’t you come here before?”

“Yeah, a few years back. From the looks of it, they didn’t change the pattern of the patrols at the time, but I could be wrong. Commander Cullen always has been efficient.” He threw a wink at Dorian, but it appeared like he was slowly blinking at him.

“Alright. Should we wait for the change in patrols, then?”

“Good idea,” Krem approved. “We can sneak in the prison during the rotation.”

“We’re not even sure he’s kept there,” Dorian said briskly. Ever since yesterday, he couldn’t feel his lover. There was no way to know where he was exactly.

Surprisingly, it was Solas who placed a hand on his arm reassuringly. “We’ll find him.”

“Yeah, you’ve got us if anything happens.”

Dorian looked down at his hands, his throat tight. “Thank you all… I truly appreciate it.”

They waited in silence, counting how much time they’d have between rounds. A little less than a minute. After about an hour, they saw some commotion, and Bull gestured at the others. Solas and Dorian cast the spell to hide their powers, and they began their descent from the little hill up to the bridge. The hold was built on top of a mountain, accessible only by the bridge as far as Bull and Krem remembered. They had to draw a map by memory, and unless they attempted escalating one of the walls, it was their only way of getting in.

The prison was situated in the basement of the north-west tower, the entry located in the inner yard, and it was “gloomy as fuck”, as per Krem’s opinion. The place was barely holding together, renovations impossible due to the fragility of the foundations and the walls, with a hole in the middle of the two rooms leading to a waterfall and imminent death. All glorious things Dorian loved to hear, really.

“How did the Inquisition come to discover such a place anyway?” Dorian asked himself aloud, frowning. The Inquisitor was Dalish, but she was from the Free Marches from what little information he’d gathered on her, so he doubted she had been the mastermind behind this massive move.

Solas cleared his throat. “It actually was my idea.”

“Seriously?” Iron Bull said. He wasn’t one usually for judgment, but Dorian detected a note of distaste in his voice.

“I was there when the Inquisition was first created. It was different at the time, it had much ambition to help and little to kill. They held councils in Haven’s chantry, but needed bigger, official headquarters, and I already knew of this location.”

“Why did you decide to leave?” Dorian asked, curious. As far as he knew, Solas never had been involved with the Inquisition and always stayed away from its claws. Now he suspected there was more to the story, especially with Solas’ sudden hesitation.

“Some personal matters came in the way, and I decided to leave. It was for the best.”

Krem clapped him on the shoulder with a mix of surprise and awe while Bull was suppressing a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’ve mingled with the Inquisitor.”

“Mingle is not the word I would employ,” Solas replied with a frown, and the beginning of a flush on his cheeks, “but yes, I was romantically involved with her.”

He didn't explain the reason of their break up, and it wasn't the time either to discuss their love life either. Dorian reminded himself to ask later, however. He knew so little of the elf that anything was good information.  
  
Their only chance to infiltrate Skyhold was the effect of surprise on their side and the distraction whoever else was kept in the cells would create. Many things could go wrong, Dorian knew it and knew everybody else knew, but at least they had a plan, as minimalist as it could be.  
  
He used the remaining time to make sure his potions were in reach, secure in the pouch attached to his belt. He only had three health potions and two lyrium ones. He gave two others to Solas, but the latter assured him he could heal them if needed which lifted a weight off Dorian's shoulders.  
  
Bull was, surprisingly, very quiet on his feet when he wanted to be, even with that great axe he was swinging around. The lack of armour helped too. Krem was wearing more, but he didn't seem handicapped in the least with his frame being smaller than Dorian's but more powerful with defined arms. Before Cullen, he'd been attracted to him and had almost asked him if he was willing for a tumble, at some point.  
  
Solas was first in the line of them misfits, his pace quick and quiet as they made their way in the very open area in front of the hold. If someone even did as look out a window or over the edge of the ramparts, they would see them. Everybody sighed with relief once they reached the entrance. There was no guard yet at the gatehouse, but it was easy to hear a few of them discussing a little bit further in the courtyard, with the clinks of metal so characteristic of their armor.  
  
They hid behind the wall in the gate leading into the hold and waited until the red Templars walked inside to jump on them. The three were taken by surprise and were knocked unconscious quite easily and dragged away from view. Dorian would've happily killed them, but they weren't here for that. They stared down at the three crumpled bodies  
  
"Three of us could wear their armor," Solas suggested, making Dorian crinkle his nose in distaste. No way that he would wear one of these horrors, especially with red lyrium fragments imbedded in the armor. He looked up, and noticed Bull's eyes on him.  
  
" _Vishante kaffas_."  
  
Soon after, Krem, Solas and him were looking ridiculous, but at least it meant a better chance to go further with fewer chances at being detected. It took some time before red lyrium started to affect one's metabolism, and chances were that Krem wouldn't be affected by it by the time they'd remove their armors. He was sad to leave Cullen's cape behind, it'd made good work of keeping him warm so far, and he rolled it with care with the rest of their equipment they couldn’t bring with them. He kept his belt with the potions, however, because they could save them.  
  
"Where to now?"  
  
Solas pointed up, and sure enough, there was a door on the upper floor of the gates.  
  
"I'll help you get up there. You go and let me know when the way's clear," Bull boosted them up, quite a feat with all the metal they were wearing. They made some noise, but it didn't last for long, and then Iron Bull was disappearing from Dorian's view.

The trio entered a room only lit by a candle settled on a table. They bundled their gear underneath it, hoping nobody would find them, but judging by the way the room was dusty with broken furniture everywhere, that wouldn't be a problem. Dorian caught a look of displeasure on Solas' face before they stepped outside. The elf was used to his loose clothes, being clad in metal mustn’t been comfortable for him. Or perhaps it reminded him of bad memories. Nevertheless, it smelled like sour sweat and bad hygiene in there.  
  
Dorian stayed behind just in case he had to cast a spell, looking around for any trouble. There were some civilians outside, but no one was taking attention in them as they kept to the left and began to climb up the stairs. Most of them were drunk, singing and laughing together. As if the organization they were working for was for all fun and games.  
  
Bull was nowhere to be seen, but knowing him, he wasn't far behind. The view from the helmet didn't offer much except for two small rays, and now Dorian was beginning to understand why the Templars’ mind was so narrow.  
  
"Hey, you two!" Someone shouted from the ramparts, and they looked up. It was a soldier with a higher hierarchy, Dorian couldn't tell which one exactly but his armor looked different and better made. He was more preoccupied at suppressing his magic, for it was threatening to come out in a wall of fire.  
  
"What are you three doing in the middle of the courtyard? You're supposed to be over down to the stables to receive the new deliveries, and that is not the way."  
  
"Fuck, what do we do?" Krem muttered under his breath. He inhaled, and then higher, he shouted: "Aye, sir, will do, sir!"  
  
The soldier looked down at them for a moment longer before he nodded and went off.  
  
"Fuck, now we have to go the other way," Dorian hushed. Solas was the first to move, turning around as best he could in the armor and returning from where they came from. The other two sighed and followed. At least nobody could see their lips moving as they talked together.  
  
"Who thought this was a good idea again to wear these stupid armors?" Dorian angrily whispered.  
  
"Hush, there is a way to enter the main tower nearby the stables."  
  
The area over the merchants' stalls wasn't as busy, with the shops closed for the night.  
Bull kept his distance, pretending he was just some drunk visitor, a glass bottle appearing from nowhere in his grasp.  
  
"Looks like nobody's around except for that delivery man," Krem commented as they approached the carriage. The stables behind looked deserted except for the animals, and Dorian was quickly thinking of a plan. Perhaps one of them could divert the man while the others sneaked in.  
  
"Good evening," he said politely, trying to sound as much Ferelden as he could. He could distract him.  
  
Except Solas went beside the delivery man before he could return his greeting and smacked him behind the head with a strength that surprised the other witch. The poor man fell in his arms, and Krem swore under his breath.  
  
"Are we to knock unconscious everyone?"  
  
"If we need to." Dorian helped Solas get the body among the wooden boxes in his carriage and hid him by putting on top the cover they found in the front seat.  
  
"We need to hurry either way, patrols are coming this way," Krem was looking at the ramparts again, and sure enough, they could see torches approaching.  
  
"Right this way then." Solas led them up the stairs leading into a tower as fast as possible, considering the two witches had trouble bending their knees. They entered the kitchens, but luckily there was nobody in there. They went out and arrived in a bigger room with columns and two scenery paintings. Dorian couldn't help but approach one to look at it.  
  
"Nobody cleans up here," Krem commented at the big spider webs.  
  
"How are we to reach the prison, Solas, when we're on the opposite side?" Dorian removed his helmet to take a deep breath, sweating buckets inside that metal cage.  
  
"We'll have to traverse the main hall, it's the only way outside the west tower."  
  
Dorian sighed, his nerves raw. He'd been trying to follow his bond's direction, but the place was a real maze. "Whoever built this place probably rolled dices to determine the room placement," he groaned.  
  
Solas led them on the other side of the hall and opened a wooden door. Some sort of festivities was going on. Nobles were everywhere, just what they needed. Dorian hadn’t seen so many masks since his escapades to Val Royeaux a few years earlier. A part of him was missing the Game, the wicked words and hidden rules, while another was glad Fereldans didn't care about playing such thing.  
  
There were a lot of Templars as well, and Dorian quickly discovered the reason. A woman was seated on the Inquisitor’s throne, watching the party with a face of steel. In front of him, Solas froze when he noticed her. He had to admit she looked the part of an Herald of Andraste herself, but the look in her eyes when they landed on Solas didn’t hold any divine mercy.  
  
"We've got to move," Krem urged behind. The same superior than before was there and had noticed them.  
  
"You!”  
  
“Solas, come on!” Dorian grabbed the elf’s arm and made his way to the exit, his other hand closing around his sword’s handle and Krem hot on their heels.  
  
“Stop them!”  
  
Dorian cursed under his breath and hurried, deciding their camouflage spell was of no use anymore. With a flick of his wrist, he closed the massive doors behind them and blocked them with another spell as he tossed his helmet with another hand, the cold air feeling amazing on his sweaty face.  
  
Down in the courtyard, Bull appeared behind a Templar, hitting his head with the side of his axe. “Come on, I was falling asleep here!”  
  
“Sorry for the delay, Bull, we were sidetracked.”  
  
They began descending the stairs, a position that was making them vulnerable to any attack. A door banged open on the ramparts and a horde of Templars came out. Archers were already aiming at them, and without even consulting each other, Solas cast a barrier on the three of them while Dorian did the same on Iron Bull.  
  
Krem unsheathed his sword and joined Bull to stop the first row of warriors running down the ramparts to them. Solas threw his gauntlets away as he made his way down the stairs and moved his right arm in an arc. Dorian actually felt his magic tickle the hair at the back of his neck before the giant green fist was erupting from thin air, sending the archers on the battlements flying. Some fell down with a thud, perhaps breaking their neck or at least a few bones, soon followed by their comrades taken care by Bull and Krem.

Dorian was the only one left in the stairs at that point, and he had the brief idea of going right away in the prison before scolding himself for even having such a thought. He had to help, they’d come for him. Without his staff, conjuring required a lot more concentration, but with no one nearby and the archers occupied for the moment, he had time to conjure a ball of flames that exploded in the middle of their enemies.  
  
"Dorian, careful!" Someone shouted. He began to cast a barrier on himself, but was only beginning to gather the mana when he saw a light coming from an enemy that threw him flying backwards. His breath was cut short on impact with the ground and his head hi a rock hard. Dark spots danced before his eyes, and he gasped desperately to fill in his lungs, turning on his side. He bared his hands with a grunt of pain and idly touched the back of his head. His hair felt viscous with blood.  
  
Even with his back and head in pain, he forced himself to sit up. The armor was dented, and there was no way he could remove it on his own now.  
  
Footsteps came closer, and he unsheathed his sword without a second thought, anger taking over the pounding headache. He was beyond pissed now. He got back on his feet and dodged his attacker’s blade with his own and counterattacked. His enemy was surprised by the ferocity of his attacks and quickly ended dead.  
  
He was joining the others when he heard a roar so loud it made the prison’s door vibrate. Dorian had been Silenced, which meant Cullen had transformed into a lion again. It was a reassurance to know he really was here, at least.  
  
“Everyone alright?” He asked as he surveyed the other people’s injuries, anxious to continue their mission. Solas was mending to a gash on Krem’s head which was bleeding quite a bit and making him look ferocious. He gulped down a healing potion himself, feeling his headache reduce considerably.  
  
“Yeah, better than them.” Bull grinned at him, looking sweaty but unarmed. He was looting the corpses.  
  
"Let's go then."  
  
He could hear noises downstairs, shouts and roars. Cullen was down there, and the thought made him hurry down. The first thing that hit him was the smell, defections and other things he'd rather not discover making him breathe through the mouth. People had been tossed in groups in the small cells, giving them almost no space to move.  
  
Dorian continued to the other room, promising himself he'd free them later. The persons in the other part of the prison were alone in their cells, but red lyrium littered the walls and floor of every one of them. The Templars had been all brutally killed down here, and the killer was a sight for sore eyes.  
  
"Cullen." Dorian sighed with relief when he saw the lion who had his teeth deep in a guard's neck. He looked up at his name, growling and eyes menacing, but the sound died when he saw it was the witch.  
  
Dorian let his sword clatter to the floor as the lion pounced on him, his large body colliding hard against him. He threw his front paws around his neck in a sort of hug, pouring happily, and Dorian returned the embrace, burying his face and his hands into the matted mane.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise, but when I began to spit red lyrium, nothing could have stopped me of coming here to save you," he murmured against his twitching ear. Cullen couldn’t speak, but he turned his face and licked his cheek, a gesture Dorian didn’t know he’d ever miss.  
  
The lion stepped away, looking at him with happiness, but also exhaustion and pain. Dorian began to check if he was injured. His ribs seemed tender, but other than that, it was difficult to see the extent of what happened to him while he was still in his lion form.  
  
"Cullen, it's good to see you, despite the circumstances," Solas said behind them, along with Bull and Krem. He had removed the top of his armor and was working on the bottom as he looked into the other cells. They began to free the people who were more or less conscious due to their exposure to red lyrium.

There were some of the Inner Circle's members; Cassandra, Varric and Blackwall. Dorian recognized them quite easily with all the tales circulating about them, and it was sad to see infamous persons in such a sorry state.  Among them was also a small, lithe elf. Solas stopped short in front of her cell, letting out a few words in Elvish. He raised his hand and magically removed the door's hinges without waiting for Bull to break them.  
  
"Who is this?" Dorian inquired, helping Solas as he examined her. She was weak, comatose and barely acknowledging them. Solas turned fervent blue eyes at him.  
  
“She’s the Inquisitor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Captain Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	19. I Am The One

 

“She’s the Inquisitor,” Solas said as if it explained everything, which it did not. It only confused the others even more.  
  
“How in the Void is that even possible?” Krem was the first to ask. He was helping Cassandra to drink a healing potion. Dorian was glad nobody but him had needed one so far and that they had plenty after the last fight.  
  
“The person upstairs, who was on the throne earlier, is an usurper. Dark magic surrounds them and hide their real identity.”  
  
Dorian frowned. He hadn’t sensed anything but the superior aura surrounding the inquisitor. “So this is the person you knew as the inquisitor?” That frail, tortured body. He was slowly regaining his magic, enough to know that if she truly had been a leader once, she was now nothing but a shell of the person she used to be. She was barely able to remain conscious as Solas drew his blue-lit hands over her, a deep frown on his face. He was muttering something under his breath, elvish words for the woman.  
  
"We can't stay here," Iron Bull said, "we might end up all falling through that hole."  
  
"Let's go upstairs," Solas agreed, already helping Lavellan to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her middle and she followed him like a ragdoll, her face obscured by her dirty dark hair. "I blocked the door with a spell, it should take them some time before they cancel the ward or burst through it."  
  
Cullen huffed at every few steps, and Dorian realized he was trying not to lean on one of his front legs. It was at an odd angle. He was himself helping the half-conscious dwarf, Varric, up the stairs, but he crouched down in front of the lion to inspect closer once he was safely seated on those uncomfortable-looking benches.  
  
"Why didn't you let me know you were hurt?" He asked once they were settled on the upper floor. The lion shook his head and softly whined.  
  
"I will mend the bone, then give you a healing potion, alright?"  
  
Cullen yowled in pain when Dorian put back his bone at the right angle, and the witch felt his eyes burn at the notion he was hurting his lover.

“Here,  _Amatus,_  drink.” He petted him while helping him drink the potion, hushing sweet nothings to him. He already looked better after that, stretching with a happy grin and licking Dorian’s wrist.  
  
"Dorian, I need your help," Solas called him with a voice filled with so much sorrow Dorian couldn't refuse. He reticently let go of Cullen and crouched down beside Solas and in front of Lavellan who was sitting on one of the benches.  
  
"Physically, she is fine, but her mind is…"he hesitated on the word, "wounded after so much time being under a spell. She is not in the Fade, as she is no witch, but her mind isn't completely here despite her body being conscious."  
  
"She created a world within herself where she could be free," Dorian said, understanding. He'd read of such things. It happened sometimes to those who'd seen or suffered too much. "How can I help?"  
  
"You're a necromancer, your abilities lie in death," Solas explained, and Dorian frowned.  
  
"But she isn't dead…" He applied a hand to her forehead, sending his magic forward. He was no healer, but the dead was his speciality, and he could definitely feel something dead in her. Her spirit had been broken by isolation and despair.  
  
"She lies between death and life. With our combined magic, we might cure her entropy."  
  
"I will attempt my best." He gathered his newly retrieved mana and pushed it in the elf, making his way into her head. It was actually a lot easier for him to perform on a corpse, that was how he always operated after all, and being in a stranger's head was bizarre to the least. It felt like intruding.  
  
Solas placed his hand at the back of her neck, his magic soothing as it prodded alongside Dorian’s.  
  
The latter ignored most of the memories to focus on Lavellan's consciousness, or what little remained of it. Her head was like a peach he'd collect when he was younger, ripen and beautiful until he'd find the pit slowly rotting away from the inside. There was also something else linked to her energy, a foreign presence that Dorian detected but didn’t focus on.  
  
Casting a revival spell might not work, but would blow a spark of life inside her. What would people say, if they knew the Inquisitor was being helped by witches? Dorian wasn't doing it for her, he was doing it for Solas who had been a good friend to him, and also for Cullen who always spoke of her with respect.  
  
" _Expergiscere_ , inquisitor."  
  
He wasn't aware of how long it took, but with their joined effort, something finally clicked between them and that dead space was suddenly filled with life. The inquisitor jerked forward with a gasp, and Dorian let her lean against him for a moment before Solas hushed comforting elvish words at her. She recognized him and touched his face with such tenderness Dorian had to look away. This was not the heartless monster he imagined, not when that small smile graced and softened her features, her eyes a radiant green.

He gave her his waterskin, and she drank greedily, but stopping herself before it was empty. She gave it back with almost a sheepish expression on her face.  
  
" _Ma serennas, ma melava halani_. You just saved my life," she addressed the two witches.  
  
Dorian gave her a thin smile. "We're not out of trouble yet. First, can someone here explain what happened?" Dorian asked to the captives.

Cullen had stayed beside the witch all along, not budging when the witch got back on his feet. He couldn't sit with that stupid armor still on and dented in his back, and they were still on enemy grounds, but he was so glad they have found Cullen he could've wept. He wanted to bury his head in his mane and never let go, not that Cullen seemed like he wanted to walk away from him either. He looked exhausted from the constant presence of the lyrium and the tortures that had been performed on him, but he stood straight, and if he was leaning a bit heavier than usual against Dorian's side, nobody else needed to know.  
  
"Someone took the Inquisitor's place," Cassandra spoke for the first time, her voice hoarse but determined as she stood straight, actually helping an unconscious Varric. She was about Dorian's height, yet her determination made her appear much taller. "I wasn't in Mythal's temple, but I have been imprisoned here for months after I discovered the person was an usurper taking the Inquisitor’s appearance."  
  
"Who is it then?" Bull asked.  
  
"We don't know exactly," Blackwall answered, looking gruff but unharmed. "We know it's another witch taking Lavellan's face and that it probably happened when we were in the Arbor Wilds, but we weren't able to find who it is."  
  
"I know who it is," Lavellan said weakly. "I suppose I am the one with the answers."  
  
Varric was the only one who was still unconscious. Effects of red lyrium on a dwarf were probably different, but as Solas examined him, he said something about poison. He used a dispel spell on him, flushing everything from his body, and the dwarf woke up from his trance with a start, groaning with relief when Solas used a healing spell. Cassandra began to fumble in a chest in a corner of the room, where their armors and weapons had been stashed, and began to distribute their equipment to their respective owner. She also found staves that had seen better days, but it was better than nothing before they could retrieve their own equipment.  
  
"We went to the Arbor Wilds because we were informed of a witches’ group who were attempting to uncover the temple's secrets. It was said that whoever came across them would gain the gods' knowledge. There were also rumors of the group using red lyrium, so we decided to go and stop them."  
  
She sighed, looking at Cullen for a long moment. He was sitting and listening with intent, his fluffy ears perked up.  
  
"The secret was the Well of Sorrow, guarded by servants of Mythal. Everyone was against the idea, but I…" She closed her eyes, as if listening to something. Outside, people were yelling, and something banged in the door. Perhaps a battering ram. "I stepped in the Well and took the power for myself right before the witches came in.  
  
"The leader, Corypheus, was furious. He claimed I wasn't worthy of such knowledge or the title of Inquisitor. He is a powerful witch, the most powerful I ever met, and he was defeated us before we could even attempt anything. All of you were wiped of your memories as he used blood magic to transform his appearance to look like me. The only thing I could do before he captured us all was to try to help one of us escape so they could save us."  
  
She extended a hand towards Cullen, letting him sniff it before she lightly scratched his chin, smiling when he purred. "Mythal allowed me access to some of her knowledge on magic, and I transformed you into a lion, Cullen, because I knew you could save us all."  
  
There was something else in the depth of her eyes that she didn't mention, but Dorian didn't miss it. Cullen nodded, licking her palm in acknowledgment.  
  
"Can you transform him back?" Dorian asked. He let out a small sigh of relief when she nodded.  
  
"I believe I can."  
  
"The sooner the better," Iron Bull quirked in as the bangs intensified at the door. Cassandra, Varric and Blackwall had finished gearing themselves up, all looking more ready for battle than they had been a moment earlier.  
  
"Let's go, then." Lavellan took the time to stretch with a wince, wobbling for a few seconds before she squared her frail shoulders. She looked at Dorian with interest when he approached her with Cullen's clothes in his hands, but said nothing. The lion came over from the witch’s side to hers to press her on, excited to have this curse done with. They went to one of the secluded cells to have a bit of intimacy. Dorian stroked Cullen's head with a reassuring smile before taking a place beside Lavellan to not be in her way.  
  
"Let me focus, I only did this once after all," she said. Cullen sat down to present the mark on his back paw. She gently grabbed it and closed her eyes. A moment passed before a light shone from her fingertips and surrounded Cullen's paw. It wasn't anything like Dorian had done when he had to fight just to transform the mark. Lavellan simply made it disappear in a second.  
  
Cullen began to transform back with vicious sounds. His roar of pain was lost to the sound of the door giving way to the battering ram, shouts invading the prison. Dorian retrieved his sword just in case, but he didn’t want to leave Cullen like this.  
  
"Is this normal?" Lavellan asked, biting her lip as they watched Cullen's body contort and spasm on the floor.  
  
"You didn't see his transformation the first time?" Dorian replied as calmly as he could in such a situation. Cullen wasn't screaming anymore, as his bones cracked and the fur shed from his body.  
  
"I was too busy being unconscious," she said, deadpan, and Dorian arched an eyebrow at her.  
  
"I didn't know you had a sense of humor."  
  
"You barely know anything of me… Dorian, was it?"  
  
“Of the House Pavus, pleased to meet you.” They looked at each other for a moment, elf at human. Finally, Cullen's transformation reached its completion. Dorian threw the breeches on his lap for him to keep his dignity and leaned down to peer at his sweaty face.  
  
" _Amatus_ , can you hear me?" He placed a hand against his cheek.  
  
"I'll go help the others," Lavellan said, unsheathing her daggers. Cullen was breathing hard, but he was leaning into his hand, meaning he was conscious.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better." Cullen's voice was hoarse, but he was smiling when he finally looked at Dorian with fondness. "Now that you're here."  
  
"The things you say.” Dorian smiled before continuing on a serious tone. “Now I’m sad to say this, but put some clothes on, we have to move." They didn't have time to bask in their reunion, not with their friends fighting a few feet away from them. Dorian took his staff and stepped in the fight to cast a barrier, helping however he could, but it was almost over. Lavellan, Cassandra and Bull were both on one Templar while Krem, Varric, Blackwall and Solas were on the other remaining one.  
  
"Where's my armor? And why are you wearing a Templar armor?"  
  
"To infiltrate this place more easily. Yours is still in the chest."  
  
"You can stop hiding now, all the Templars are dead," Iron Bull declared soon after, in his usual booming voice. Cullen took a few deep breaths to steady himself, leaning against the wall. He looked pale with red-rimmed eyes, his beard too long and ragged, but he seemed determined as they stepped out of the cell.  
  
"Curly, it's good to see you," Varric said, his hands stroking Bianca.  
  
"It's good to be human again once and for all."  
  
Cullen was greeted by the Inquisition's companions, then Lavellan herself. He was well-liked, it was easy to see. Dorian let him have his moment, fumbling to get out of the armor. He managed to remove the pauldrons but was struggling with the buckles at the shoulders when Solas approached to help.  
  
"How were you able to remove yours so easily?" Dorian groaned, eager to get out of this cage.  
  
"Krem helped me," Solas replied with a bit of amusement in his eyes.  
  
"That explains it.” They didn’t speak as the elf continued to unbuckle the pieces, clearly having more experience than the other witch. “Tell me, Solas, Lavellan was in love with Cullen, wasn't she?"  
  
They both looked at her on a silent agreement. Spilling the blood of her jailers had brought life to her face, she was more energetic. She was still as dirty as someone who had been a captive for years, but at least she’d tied her hair away from her face.

"I believe so." Dorian breathed better once the chest piece was gone, the dented part not digging into his skin anymore. He was only wearing a thin tunic underneath, and he shivered in the cold.  
  
"Was it the reason that you left?"  
  
Solas shook his head. "Cullen wasn't the Military advisor during my time with her. I thought my love for her was incapacitating her mission, I did not wish to see her fail because of me."  
  
"And here I thought you were smarter than me, Solas." The latter turned sharp eyes at him. "Love drove me here to help Cullen, and you think it's an handicap? What else should we live for, then?" Dorian threw Solas’ words right back at him. Either the elf was refusing to face reality, either he was hiding his true reasons.  
  
"It is best not to dwell in the past."  
  
Dorian sighed. "Yes, but let me give you an advice, from one fool man to another: She's right here. Don't make the same mistake twice."  
  
The two of them went with Krem to retrieve their gear stashed in the abandoned tower on the other side of the hold. They didn't meet anyone outside. The large doors leading to the main hall were closed, the nobles probably trembling behind in fear along with the false Inquisitor.  Dorian was unsure of what would next happen, but he was willing to follow Cullen to finish whatever they'd started. He hadn't come to help the Inquisition, but if doing so meant freeing himself from their constant surveillance, he would gladly do it.  
  
He felt more like himself once he was equipped with his leather armor and fire staff, the runes carved in the wood warming his cold hand.  
  
"My armor is so much more comfortable than this crap," Krem commented.  
  
"Want to talk about it?" Dorian stretched to wear off the crick in his back.  
  
"You call this an armor? It's a bunch of shiny buckles and crap, and parts of it are missing." Krem gestured at the shoulder. Solas turned around, but Dorian caught him repressing a smile.  
  
He scoffed. "That is fashion, nothing you both seem to know anything about."

“Let’s return,” Solas stepped in to diffuse the incoming argument. They returned to the prison, where the group had come to a decision.  
  
Cullen approached Dorian, a serious look on his wary face.  
  
“Don’t tell me, I’ll guess. Corypheus needs to be captured or killed for the Inquisition to return the way it was. Correct?”

Cullen sighed, partly exasperated by the witch’s antics, but nodded in confirmation.

“You don’t have to do this, Dori. It is not your fight.”

Dorian clicked his tongue just as Lavellan turned to them. “Nonsense. I won’t leave you now that I just saved you, yes? Lead, and I will follow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Expergiscere** = Wake up
> 
>  **Ma serennas, ma melava halani.** = My thanks, you saved me.
> 
> I'm [Captain Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	20. From death, they became life

Lavellan faced all of the companions, her face serious and her posture rigid. She’d been pacing the room for a few minutes while the companions finished buckling up their armors. Nothing of the fragile elf from before remained, she looked everything like a leader. They didn’t know what they would face, but at least they were prepared for anything. Dorian had taken a lyrium potion just in case, his mana pool now filled and ready to be used.

“Corypheus knows he can’t rely on his false identity now,” the Inquisitor said, crossing her arms.

“He’ll probably have some of these Orlesian nobles in hostage,” Bull piped in, huge axe laying against his leg.

“There was a ball of sort in the hall,” Solas explained at the ex-prisoners’ confused looks.

“Nobles drinking wine and eating hors-d’oeuvres until their belly explodes upstairs while the dungeon is filled with prisoners. Reminds me of home.” Dorian chuckled, but there was a lack of humor in his voice. Beside him, Cullen took his hand, his grip firm and comforting.

“Then we go in separate groups through the front doors and the two side doors. Nobody who witnessed our group is still alive to inform the remaining ones how many we are, and that gives us an advantage.”

“Except for Krem, Solas and I, that is, when we had to walk through the throne room.”

Lavellan nodded. “So you come with me through the front. Iron Bull, Cullen and Varric through the kitchens; Cassandra and Blackwall through the library. We’re not many rogues, but it’ll have to do.”

“You have me as well,” a voice with a thick Orlesian accent said from the entrance. There had been no footsteps and no sound from the door, but suddenly there was a red-headed woman with them, a bow and quiver strapped to her back. She had a cold aura oozing from her, but Lavellan didn’t hesitate to hug her tightly.

“Leliana! I thought you were dead.”

“Never, Inquisitor. I was simply playing the Game along with Josephine. It took me some time to figure out what was happening, but nothing escapes me.”

She sent a sharp glance to the witches of the group at that, for Dorian and Solas probably were the only two she didn’t know – or Dorian hoped, at least, that she didn’t know who he was.

“I’m glad then that you’re here to help us.”

“And hopefully not kill us in our sleep,” Krem whispered beside Dorian, sharing his opinion on the rogue. She was to go alongside Cassandra and Blackwall and meant a more diversified group. Cassandra was quick, but an arrow was quicker.

“I don’t know what will happen once we face Corypheus, but be ready for anything,” Lavellan told everyone. “He proclaims himself as an Old God, but he’s none of that. He’s a madman who lived for too long, and we will make him bleed.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Cassandra said, her accent turning the statement into much more of a threat.

“Are you ready then?” The Inquisitor asked, already patting her daggers. She’d been surviving on the appeal of vengeance for years, knowing it was soon coming to an end was making her agitated.

“I wish to speak with you before, _ma falon_ ,” Solas spoke for the first time. She hesitated, but finally nodded and they went to a corner to speak privately.

Cullen was still beside him, but Dorian felt at odds standing in the middle of all these persons. He was the only witch among them, a pariah whose life had been in danger by the very organisation he was now helping. He did not think such event would ever happen, yet here they were.

He cleared his throat, leaning slightly on his staff, and was thinking of a subject to converse about to spend the time and diffuse the looks sent at him when Cullen tugged on his wrist.

“I want to speak with you too,” he said, voice serious.

“Alright.” Dorian frowned, a bit anxious by his tone, but followed him. Cullen was fidgeting, he realized.

“Are you sure about this, _amatus_?” Cullen asked, the seriousness of his question counter balanced by the use of the endearment, hushed with a thick accent. They were standing close, their same height putting them face to face.

Dorian never was for public displaying of affection for obvious reasons, but in the secluded corner of the room, he had little care for who might see them. They might be dead soon, so any moment left with his lover was precious. Dorian took his sword hand, big and calloused and littered with silver scars, and kissed the back of it, pressing his lips against the warm skin for a few seconds before letting go.

“I am. If doing this gives a reason for the Inquisition to stop hunting witches, I would be a fool to run away.” He gave him a smile, moustache perking up. “And if you think I would leave you after freeing you from your cell- “

“I know, trust me. I felt your emotions as much as you did mine.” An arm encircled his waist, and Dorian could feel his heat radiating from it despite the armors separating them. “I would have done the same thing, were our positions reversed.”

Dorian dug his hands into the soft fur of his mantle and pulled, kissing him without thinking about their audience. Weeks had gone by without being able to kiss him, but it still felt the same. His lips were chapped and raspy, but Cullen made the same low moan, almost like a purr of pleasure.

“You taste so good,” he sighed before leaning in for another kiss, his tongue stroking inside his mouth. Dorian gave in the moment before realizing what he probably tasted of. It was the lyrium potion from earlier, and Cullen was unconsciously attracted to it. He eased the kiss, gave the scar running across his lips a last peck before letting go, drawing in a breath to clear his mind.

“I am always delicious,” he replied. It was best not to mention anything to Cullen, not for the moment anyway.

Cullen smiled, about to answer when Cassandra interrupted them with a distinct cough beside them.

“Let’s go.” The commander nodded at her, and Dorian realized they were finally doing this. He joined Lavellan, Krem and Solas as they made their way out of the prisons. The three groups parted way outside, Dorian trying hard to focus and not look in Cullen’s direction.

Everything that happened in the last years were because of Corypheus... In the end, he’d been the one forcing Dorian to live in autarchy, away from everything and everyone, not the Inquisition itself. Only the head needed to change in order for the whole body to turn direction, a fact the mad witch had profited of. It was way easier to corrupt from the inside, after all.

Lavellan looked back at her companions as they reached the top of the stairs, calm and poised.  On her gesture, Solas magically opened the large doors. They opened slowly and with a wince-worthy sound. Iron Bull and Krem fidgeted in front of him, the only sign they were nervous about facing a self-proclaimed old god.

Whatever Dorian was expecting, none of that happened. Nothing happened, in fact. The throne room was dark and silent. The party prodded slowly in the darkness, wary and senses on alert.

“Can’t you light it up a bit, Vint?” Bull hushed after Dorian walked twice into him. He really had bad night vision.

The witch glared at the little of him he could see before he brought his hand to his mouth, palm up, and blew in the direction of the ceiling. Small wisps escaped from his mouth and flew towards the chandeliers, going from one to another until the throne room was completely lit up. Lavellan stopped, and so did the companions.

About two dozen statues were in the room, sitting or standing and wearing the latest trend in clothes. They were frozen in the midst of movement.

Solas and Dorian immediately stepped toward one of these statues to investigate, a dwarf in the process of standing up from one of the long tables placed on each side of the room. His expression was odd and stuck in transition, eyebrows knitting together and mouth half-opened.

Dorian pressed his hand against his chest, leaning down to look into his eyes. Through the frills and laces of his expansive-looking shirt, he felt a heart beating regularly if slowly, at the same moment the dwarf’s eyes shifted and looked right through him. He drew out a breath and stepped back, shivers crawling up his back.

“Corypheus’ doing, presumably.” Solas had come to the same conclusion.

“They are still alive.”

“Until I decide so,” Lavellan declared. Dorian frowned and turned around, his hand automatically reaching for his staff. Her tone has been off with amusement badly hidden.

Lavellan hadn’t talked. She was staring at her doppelganger with a furious glare. The person was standing right by the throne, an exquisite robe clinging to her forms and trailing behind her with a beautiful staff made from dragon bones in her hand.

These were Tevinter robes, sold in the Minrathous markets. Dorian vividly remembered one of his dear friends, Maevaris, wearing a set like this, the bright material enhancing her eye color. That Corypheus was, or had been once, a Tevinter Magister.

“I see you finally managed to assembly your friends. What do you think will happen, that you’ll successfully defeat me?”

“You’re blowing up your cover, Corypheus. Killing these nobles would destroy everything you so dearly worked on.”

Corypheus had a rictus, snickering. For a second, Dorian saw through his illusion. Whatever it had been, it looked more demon than anything else, red glimmering through ashy skin.

“It seems we’re at an impasse then, Inquisitor,” Corypheus continued, walking between the statues and towards the party. There were Templars on each side of the room, but they appeared more like a decoration than anything else, their eyes shining too brightly. Nothing they couldn’t manage.

“We need a distraction,” he whispered to Solas. The latter was focused intently on Corypheus, something dark swimming behind his pale eyes. He looked like a predator eyeing his prey, the sight making Dorian uncomfortable for a reason he couldn’t put his finger on.

Solas realized he was being scrutinized and his gaze returned to his normal calm but piercing state. “Up there.” Dorian followed his gaze. The chandeliers, thin metal twisting esthetically and crystal glittering in the soft light. They were delicate, dropping one or a few would be easy. The problem was that the living statues were in the way, Dorian would not take the risk to hurt anyone.

The two Lavellan were still talking, taunting each other. The other groups were probably waiting behind their respective door by this point.

Only Corypheus suddenly became interested in the witches and had them in invisible shackles in a second.

“You brought witches with you? And not just any witch.” He snickered and smirked at Solas. The latter had made no move to try to free himself, at the opposite of Dorian who felt a lump of fear at the memory it triggered. The last one to use this spell on him and tried to tie him down had been…

“No!” Dorian broke the magical cuffs and used his foot to pick his staff up from the floor, but Corypheus used a haste spell to step back, getting cover behind the throne.

“You coward!“ Lavellan shouted, striding towards him with her daggers out.

With a movement of Corypheus’ staff, demons were summoned. Demons of all kinds appeared between the statues, threatening to smash them at every move. They were too many for only the four of them to deal with, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t put up a fight of their own before the others joined them.

Krem and Lavellan were already attacking a Terror demon closer to the entrance, another Rage demon making a burning trail towards the witches.

“Of course he wouldn’t fight his own fights,” Dorian commented as he drew a barrier around the warrior and rogue. Solas summoned a Blizzard, slowing multiple demons and raising goosebumps on Dorian’s skin. The duo quickly retreated to join Krem and Lavellan, for they were more efficient that way. Dorian kept an eye on his comrades while throwing spells on the demons, mindful to always keep a barrier up around them. He was so focused on his close surroundings that he didn’t realize the others were in the throne room until he glimpsed at Cassandra hacking through fire and demonic limbs.

It was getting rather difficult to fight while being careful of the statues. There were a few accidents, companions stumbling against them, but none of the witches had time to magically push them aside either. Red Templars and demons didn’t care for their own well-being and were vicious in a way Dorian had rarely witnessed and made them very dangerous. He was casting barrier after barrier, conscious of his mana diminishing more quickly than it had time to replenish on its own.

“He keeps summoning more,” Lavellan exclaimed, puffing hard after she jumped on a Fear demon to finish it. She had a few burns and scratches but looked fine otherwise, in the circumstances. “We can’t continue like this.”

Dorian agreed. He was beginning to be exhausted and didn’t want to waste lyrium potions either. Sweat was pouring down his face with effort and concentration, his hands clammy on his staff, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Careful!” Krem shouted as a tall Pride Demon charged towards them.

Him and Blackwall fought him back, arrows flying close to Dorian to land into the demon’s flesh. Leliana continued shooting, and Dorian cast a walking bomb on another demon. They needed another plan, his mind trying desperately to find one, until it came to him. It was so natural to him, he hadn’t thought of it until now.

It was time to let them see why he was to be feared. 

Dorian moved behind the circle of warriors, creating a barrier between him and the enemies, and turned his staff at horizontal before him, gripping it with both hands as he focused. He gathered his magic, then sent it through his staff; through walls and floors, it spread towards its targets, the corpses. They were dozens of them, laying everywhere, ignored by the living yet full of purpose for someone who knew how to control them. As his spell penetrated the corpses and their dead hearts, it jerked them alive with a second gasp of life. From death, they became life.

He could feel them answering to his call, moving their limbs and gathering themselves.

“Dorian!” Someone shouted close, and it took him a moment to recognize it was Cullen. The warrior was removing his sword from a demon that had penetrated the circle, blood on his face and darkening some of his long hair, but he looked more scared for the witch than hurt.

He realized he was panting, his body shivering and on the edge of exhaustion. He leaned on his staff, a hand on his hip to regain some sort of countenance. Cullen saw through his façade and encircled his middle with his arm, letting him lean against him.

“I called for some help,” Dorian managed to say right before the doors burst with the undead Templars. It was difficult to control such a large amount of dead at the same time, but Dorian always liked a challenge. He used their old hate for demons to order them to defeat them.

“That’s your doing?” Bull called after he smashed another demon with his axe, using it like a stick to swirl around with it and knock them down. The recoil allowed the other fighters to finish the enemies.

Lavellan wheezed in pain after she was thrown away by the Pride Demon like she weighted nothing. Solas went to her, helping her up and casting a healing spell over her, but it didn’t do much to ameliorate her state. Solas said something Dorian didn’t hear, and Lavellan briefly nodded, which seemed to be all the other elf needed.

“Enough,” he commanded loud enough for Corypheus to hear. His eyes glowed briefly, a wave of powerful magic washing over the room, and the statues disappeared. He brought up his staff, and the chandeliers fell on demons and the dead, crushing them to the floor. The companions were safe in the corner with a few demons that the revived Templars made quick work off, unfaltering by the events happening behind them. Once none remained, Dorian dispelled his control over the dead and they fell down as well.

An only cry came from Corypheus. His lower body was trapped underneath a thick metal part of one chandelier. He’d finally let go of the illusion, glass shattered and biting into his already distorted body as the red gleam of the lyrium pulsed brightly on one side of his face.

Dorian wondered why Solas hadn’t used this trick sooner or how he’d done such powerful spells successively without lacking mana or breaking more sweat, but it wasn’t the time to ask.

The elf was already walking to the false god as Lavellan was being helped by Cassandra and Leliana.

“Inquisitor, are you alright?”

“My ribs are painful a bit, but my pride hurts the most.”

“Give yourself a break, it was your first fight in years,” Krem said.

“Mm. I suppose.” She was taking short breaths, trying not to strain on her ribs.

“It is time for you to stop,” Solas was saying with an imperative voice. Despite the ragged clothes, it was the first time Dorian detected such control coming off the elf. He’d kept his true colors behind a raised up wall until now.

“I should have known you were out there, elf,” Corypheus spat out. Solas murmured something that was too low for Dorian to understand, until Lavellan stepped forward.

“ _Venavis, ma vhenan._ ”

Solas half-turned his head, focusing on Lavellan, and Corypheus’ free arm shot upwards. Dorian shouted in alarm, fire dancing in his palm even as he knew it was useless, but Solas didn’t need help. His eyes glowed again with magic, and Corypheus was transformed in a statue.

“What did you do?” Lavellan exclaimed. “He’s more useful to us alive than dead.”

“He is alive but rendered defenseless. I may reverse the spell, but a normal prison will not be able to contain him.”

Lavellan looked at the solidified Corypheus, then sighed. “I wanted to hit him at least once,” she finally said. “Where are the other statues?”

“I teleported them outside, but they should be returned to normal as Corypheus can’t control them anymore.”

The companions looked down at the solidified false god, their shoulders slowly loosening up. Dorian looked up and shifted against Cullen, fur and metal meeting soft leather. It was over, they’d won.

Finally, Cassandra was the first to talk. “All this fight made me hungry.”

Bull’s booming laugh echoed in the empty room, and he clapped her on the back. He ignored the glare she sent him.

“I gotta admit, I’m sad there was no dragon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ma falon** = my friend  
>  **Venavis, ma vhenan** = Stop, my heart
> 
>  
> 
> Darkspawn doesn’t exist in this universe, so Corypheus is a mortal witch with too many ambitions, and that’s why he’s killable.  
> I wanted to include Cole as well, but it wasn’t logical considering the spirit took possession of a dead mage in a Circle and everything, and Sera is off with the Red Jennys.
> 
> Next chapter will be the epilogue, the story's last goodbyes. Is there anything you would like to see happen in it? :)
> 
> I'm [Captain Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	21. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve realized that there are a few loopholes in this story’s universe, thanks to a discussion I had with [Mica Sky](http://mica-sky.tumblr.com//). The perks of publishing a WIP, I suppose, but I tried explaining more things in this last chapter (but hey, if you still have questions after this, feel free to send me a message, I love chatting about my stories with you!)
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support, love and kudos throughout the last year, I’ve met incredible people who make me very glad I stepped into the Cullrian fandom. You guys make it worth it! As always, you can follow me on my [Tumblr](http://captain-amoruca.com/) for my other stories, prompts and personal shenanigans!

Water sloshed dangerously close to the bathtub’s edge, threatening to spill over. Cullen eased himself into it without care, eyes focused on Dorian’s appealing expanse of golden skin in front of him. The tub was large enough for the two of them to fit nicely in, something they had been enjoying for the last week or so.

Cullen sighed when the heat embraced him, setting his legs on each side of his lover, and wrapped his arms around him. He kissed his neck and buried his nose in his hair, inhaling his musky scent.

Dorian installed himself comfortably on his lap, turning on his side so he was leaning against Cullen’s chest. Cullen kept his eyes closed in contentment, and he ran his finger along the short pale lashes, followed the curve of a cheekbone down to the segmented line of the scar running across his lip.

“This was made by a blade.” He noted out loud. It always had been part of his lover, another scar marking his past, only this one was just more visible.

“Done during a fight in Kirkwall against some witches when I decided I was done following Meredith’s orders,” Cullen replied, kissing the digits still touching his mouth. “Some Templars stayed on Meredith’s side and attempted to make an example out of me when I refused to kill innocent people.” His expression turned somber. “They didn't live long enough for that.”

“Good.” Dorian kissed the ridged skin, shifting his hand so it rested against his collarbone. “They failed to make you ugly as well. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He pressed kisses on his cheeks and lips until Cullen was smiling under his ministrations. He cupped his cheek to give him a proper kiss, his tongue tasting like those sweet pastries he claimed he didn’t like – even if Dorian would often find crumbs on his desk and chair.

“Aren’t we supposed to be meeting the Inquisitor soon?” Cullen said, even as his large hands grabbed his ass when Dorian braced himself on his knees on each side of his thighs, his lower back poking out of the water. He moaned in his mouth when the witch pressed himself against him, his hardening cock rubbing against his stomach.

“We have plenty of time.”

Cullen grinned and kissed the edge of his tattoo, right against his shoulder. “We can make some.” He trailed kisses down his nipple, then the ribs he could reach, before doing the same thing on the other side. Dorian stroked his long curls, smiling as they bounced back in shape.

“We never took care of your hair, after all these months.”

“Mmm. Should I have it cut?” Dorian was very much distracted by Cullen’s mouth lavishing one of his nipples, nibbling and licking the area before doing the same thing for the other one. Their sex life had been quite erratic ever since they’d been reunited, and Cullen had plenty of opportunities to explore his body and discover his erogenous zones. He knew well how his nipples were sensitive.

It took him a moment to correlate a response, especially with the smoldering way Cullen kept looking at him. “I like you with this hairstyle, but I’d still love you if you were to chop it off.”

“Well, thank you for that.” Cullen huffed a laugh against his wet skin, making him shiver.

“You’re very welcome… Kaffas!”

Cullen had lathered his hands with soap and was rubbing his ass cheeks, slicking them with the futile excuse of washing them.

“You have a fixation with my ass, it appears.”

“Very much so. You have beautiful assets.”

“My, did Iron Bull teach you that one?”

“He might have.” He pressed two slick digits against his puckered opening, massaging it open. He was still a bit loose from this morning’s activities. Cullen kept ravishing his torso and neck with bites and kisses. Dorian cursed and moaned loudly when he found his prostate, twisting his fingers in his hair and caressing his broad shoulders and back with his other hand.

“Lean your calf against the edge, sweetheart.”

Dorian did so, knowing Cullen had an idea behind the whole thing. Placing himself like that opened himself more and aligned his cock right before Cullen’s awaiting lips. He watched in rapture Cullen lick the head before taking it whole, his head up and down bobbing up and down at a languid pace as he softly moaned to himself.

_ “Sentit bonum, amatus.” _

“I love when I get to make you talk in Tevene,” Cullen said before licking the length of his dick with the flat of his tongue, following that thick vein and giving him no chance to reply. He fastened the fingers in him, slurping loudly when he took his heavy prick in his mouth again, sucking harder.  He felt himself hit the back of his throat, and Cullen took a deep breath through his nose, looking up at him with heat and love, the clear affection on his face pushing Dorian closer to the edge. He continued to blabber nonsense both in Trade and Tevene, his thighs starting to strain under the building pleasure. Cullen has slipped down the side of the slick bathtub, making it easier for him to fit his dick down his throat without a complaint, not even when Dorian bucked his hips involuntarily, fucking Cullen’s mouth and himself on his fingers in a toe-curling continuum.

“Oh fuck, Cullen!” He came with a shout, not caring who might be hearing them. His back arched as he blacked out for a second. When he came back to himself, he found himself wrapped in Cullen’s arms, the blond man stroking his back and neck and layering his shoulders with sweet kisses. His stubble made him shiver back to life, and he hummed quietly in contentment.

“Your freckles are adorable,” he was commenting, making the witch chuckle.

“Says the one with beauty marks everywhere.”

“They’re not beauty marks, they’re moles.”

“Oh no, _Amatus_ ,” he darted his head upward, kissing a small beauty mark right underneath his collarbone. “They’re far from imperfections.”

His pale skin was like a map of stars and scars that Dorian yearned to trace again and again, especially that beauty mark on his right ass cheek and that other one on his ribs where he was ticklish.

“Now, I believe we have something to finish before we actually wash ourselves,” he said with a grin, his hand sliding down Cullen’s chest.

“Indeed we do.” They exchanged heated kisses, tongues meeting in delicious strokes. Cullen captured his bottom lip and sucked on it, much like how he’d done with his cock a moment ago. “I want you to fuck me now,” he said hotly.

Dorian’s cock twitched back to life with interest, until a knock at their door made them both groan.

“What?” Cullen barked, his tone instantly turning commanding. Dorian wouldn’t lie, the change in attitude did turn him on.

“The Inquisitor summoned you, Commander, Lord Pavus.” It was Jim, one of the messengers.

“We’ll be there shortly!”

“Well, so much for that.” Dorian straightened to grab the bar of soap. He lathered his hands and began to wash himself, working fast. “We’d better hurry, otherwise we might get scolded at by your favorite soldier.”

They quickly finished and stepped out to dress themselves. Cullen put on his impressive coat, Dorian choosing sophisticated Tevinter robes Josephine had brought in for him. Both Leliana and her had been trapped underneath Corypheus’ reign for so long, she felt grateful to the Inquisition’s saviors and made sure they knew by sending them plenty of gifts. Dorian had forgotten the taste of good wine, and despite Cullen stating it tasted the same, Dorian couldn’t be happier about owning half a dozen of excellent bottles. Cullen liked the Fereldan ale, because he had no taste – except in men, of course.

He had an idea why the Inquisitor wanted to meet him. It had been about a week since the takeover, if he could call it that, and no decision had been made about Corypheus yet and his position was still unsure in the hold. He dreaded the meeting, for he feared he’d need to leave Cullen once more. Of course he wouldn’t ask him to leave with him, he was the Commander of the Inquisition and much work needed to be done for the organisation to become even better than it was before. If Dorian was to leave, he at least would give a few advices for the greater good.

“Are you alright?” Cullen asked, squeezing his hand as they were making their way across the battlements. They didn’t have their connection anymore, but the warrior was still able to read him quite easily, to Dorian’s surprise.

“After that skill display of yours earlier, I’m more than fine.” He looked down at their joined hands, bemused at the public display of affection. The North and South were so different, for the worse on many parts, but at least nobody had to hide who they loved down here.

Cullen’s cheeks turned pink, yet he was smiling cheekily when they entered the main hall. Much had changed in little time in the most used part of the hold. The Templar Heraldry had been replaced for the Inquisition’s, the blood had been cleaned up, and more importantly, there were no more statues of nobility nature. There were still some breathing, moving nobles talking together or watching them as they walked in.

It had been quite a scandal to learn the Inquisitor had been led by an evil witch for all these years, and without anyone noticing. It would take a lot of time and effort to change the Inquisition’s decayed reputation, and furthermore, the witches’ as well. It had been a bit of a blow, but the first thing Lavellan had done had been to write a decree stating the end of all witch hunts. The official head had been chopped, but sadly many unofficial limbs would remain until someone severed them as well.

Lavellan, Leliana and Josephine were all waiting for them in the War Room that Dorian had yet to visit, looking down at a map stretched across an impressive wooden table.

“Dorian, Cullen, it’s good of you to join us,” Lavellan said, but she seemed more amused than angry.

“Our apologies, I’m afraid we’re fashionably late.”

“Forgiven. We were about to begin.” Dorian took a better look at the map. Even in the Circle of Magi, the library didn’t have anything this much detailed. Different pawns were littering the board, quest markers for their next action. “We wanted to ask you something, Dorian.”

Cullen joined Leliana and Josephine on the other side of the table, gripping the pommel of his sword in a familiar gesture. His small smile indicated he might have an idea of what was going on.

“Of course.”

“Without you, we would still be in Corypheus’ grip. I would still be rotting in that jail while everyone would still think I’m the one responsible for his crimes. Well, some still do, but that’s because the news hasn’t reached them yet, as one week is still quite short on time.” She drew a short huff of annoyance. She’d been in prison for years, it would take time to recover from such event. Dorian was already impressed at the way she was handling things. “My point is, there are many steps ahead of the Inquisition for it to become what it aims to be, and the help of a magic expert would influence the outcome. We need a voice in all the Inquisition matters, but more specifically on the witch rights to right Corypheus’ wrongs. What I’m asking, Dorian, is if you would do the Inquisition’s honour of becoming our arcane advisor?”

“But… what about Solas? He’s the one who stopped Corypheus, in the end.”

Lavellan shook her head, short dark strands caressing her long neck. “He’s not the one who gathered people to come here with heroic purposes. We voted and it is you we need. Beside, Cullen made sure I knew how talented you are.” At that, all eyes turned to Cullen who blushed, Leliana and Josephine exchanging a glance and a giggle before they were looking at him. Becoming an advisor for the Inquisition, he’d be in the best position to make so the witches have a better life. It also meant a place he could finally call home, staying with Cullen and stopping to hide and be the pariah. The choice was quite easy to take, there was no better way to change something than from the inside, wasn’t there?

He nodded, a graceful smile tugging at his lips. “I’d be honoured to help you.“

Lavellan grinned, pleased, and squeezed his bare arm before she slipped back her Inquisitor’s mask on. Cullen was beaming at him from the other side of the room, eyes full of love that warmed up Dorian’s insides. The other two advisors didn’t miss any of it, giggling together and making Cullen blush once more.

“Let’s proceed with the first matter at hand without waiting any further, shall we?”

Leliana nodded. “Corypheus.”

“Yes, but before any of that…” Dorian stepped up. “I suggest we ban the usage of _witch_ to describe my kind from now on.”

Lavellan arched a brow. “And what would we replace it with?”

“For what we are – mages. Witch has a pejorative connotation and shouldn’t be used anymore.”

Josephine was already scribing down. “Alright. It can be done. Anything else?”

“Actually, there is.” He leaned a hip against one of the columns of the room, taking a relaxed pose even as his expression meant business. “A school for mages. I had some time to reflect on what the South needs to accept mages. Up until now, not only they’re considered pariahs from simply being born the way they were…” His voice faltered. For a second he was thrown in a similar conversation he once had, years ago, with his father. No matter where he was, someone would always object his very existence. He swallowed and tossed the thought to the side. “But they have no help provided on how to control them except for the stumbled upon secluded witch, if they’re lucky. We ought to provide a mean of learning and controlling their powers if we’re to eliminate prejudices. It doesn’t have to be like the Circles installed in the North, but we can certainly be inspired by them.”

Part of the day went on with more suggestions to ameliorate the ~~witches~~ mages’s life quality in the South. Corypheus’ fate was also decided that day – he was too much a nuisance to be kept alive, and his crimes too numerous. He would be thoroughly interrogated on his red lyrium knowledge then executed in front of the court. Or what remained of it, really.

Cullen had told him they had gone through every person’s background present in Skyhold to know their whereabouts and their opinion on the red lyrium. The remaining Templars who were addicted to red lyrium were put in quarantine for the time being, for lack of a better method. They still would be given controlled doses of red lyrium that the healers would slowly reduce to prevent the incoming withdrawals as long as possible, but it would also extend its effects.

No one known had ever stopped taking lyrium except for Cullen, so everyone was walking in complete blindness. As for the merchants who provided red lyrium, they’d long ran away, taking refuge in some evil lair somewhere, but Leliana’s spies were already on the case. Dorian was glad she was on his side, to say the least.

They all worked hard to purge the Inquisition of its evil roots, and now they needed to restore its reputation and to make new allies, to be reborn. 

How were they going to do that? By hosting a ball, of course.

“A ball when there’s so much work to do,” Cullen mumbled as he adjusted his open collar yet another time. He’d been struggling in his uniform for the past five minutes while Dorian was putting some makeup on.

He approached him, taking one of his fidgeting hands to insert his sleeve cuffs, a golden double-headed snake that was rather fetching against the red of his outfit. The ensemble was military-inspired but with contrasting materials that attracted the eye, if the tight fit around the broad shoulders and long legs didn’t already. “Hush, our appearance is required only tonight. You’ll be free to return to your endless stacks of reports soon enough.”

“You know I’m not worrying about myself.”

“What? I already faced a very dangerous lion, you think a hoard of nobles scares me?”

“They can be very ferocious when they want to.”

“Speaking from experience?” Dorian teased Cullen, and to his amusement his ears turned pink.

“I… I had some bad experience in the past, accompanying the Inquisitor to official events and such.”

Dorian assumed wandering hands and full front flirtatious remarks about his appearance. His lover was indeed gorgeous, especially now that he had a haircut to tame his hair. It was still brushing his shoulders, but it’d been thinned with the split ends chopped. He could still put it in a small bun or tie it low on his neck, but tonight he chose for it to be down and Dorian had worked some products in it so the curls were silky smooth.

“I’m accustomed to the Game, I grew up with parents who mastered it after all.”

Once his cuffs were in, Cullen adjusted Dorian’s outfit and made sure it had no wrinkles. Where Cullen’s was elegant yet practical, Dorian’s was made to be flamboyant and eye-catching, thanks to Josephine’s and a very talented tailor’s help. His robes were golden and green with many buckles and a lion decorating his shoulder while his other arm was bare, his snake tattoo for all to admire.

“You’re particularly beautiful tonight, my heart,” Cullen said with a lopsided smile.

Dorian smiled and pulled his hand to kiss the back of it, lingering his lips on the warm skin. “As are you.”

They made their way out of their tower. The courtyard was occupied with carts, the coachmen talking and smoking together near the stables while others were helping women in heavy dresses step out, one even holding the smallest dog Dorian had only witnessed before. Cullen jolted.

“Maker’s breath, what breed is this?”

“Quite different of your giant Fereldan Mabari, isn’t it? I believe this is an Orlesian dog.”

A look of longing passed on the commander’s face, and Dorian made himself a resolution to get him a Mabari before they continued to where the ball was held, in the throne room. Josephine had outdone herself as always in very little given time. It felt like being back in Tevinter, with less assassination attempts and sacrifices. Well, the night was still young, anything could still happen. He could see the other companions mingling together, unmoving rocks in the rushing sea that Dorian could always retreat to if need be, if someone still believed evil witches grew moustaches after all that happened.

“Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress of the Duke of Guislain.” The lady with the dog was being introduced, Dorian pleased to hear she was a mage. Something to bond over, perhaps, and advices to take from a Circle mage.

He was about to let go of Cullen’s arm when the other tightened his grip, not caring about who could see them.

“We’re going together?”

“Always. I thought it was clear by now.” Cullen gave him an indulgent smile full of fondness that Dorian returned, and they were walking in at the nod of the crier.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath, Commander of the Forces of the Inquisition, Formal Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. Accompanying him, Lord Dorian Pavus, Member of the Circle of Vyrantium, Son of Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel, Savior of the Inquisition.”

“Savior of the Inquisition?” Dorian sputtered. “Is this what they’re calling me?”

“You did save the Inquisition.”

“So did Iron Bull, Krem and Solas.”

“They wouldn’t have done it without you, and you well know it. Iron Bull and Krem are mercenaries and had no reason to aid the Inquisition if it weren’t for you, and Solas was happily living in Haven.”

“I’m not sure I would use _happily_ and _Solas_ in the same sentence, but I suppose it is true.”

Speaking of which, the elf was in deep conversation with a woman taller than him nearby a window. He looked alert, the small frown on his face indicating he was displeased by what she was telling him. She half turned towards Dorian and their eyes met for a brief moment.

He nodded at her and grabbed a cup of wine for Cullen and him when a servant passed by them. The blond man accepting the glass, then he was guiding them over to Madame de Fer.

“Let’s go ask about her dog, shall we?”

Vivienne was talking to the Inquisitor when they approached them, the both of them looking beautiful. She graciously smiled at them while Lavellan was gesturing at the dog in her back in excitement.

“My dear, you’re the talk of this event,” she said after they gave each other kisses on the cheeks. She did the same with Cullen who wasn’t used to this Orlesian tradition and almost bumped their faces together. Southerners were probably less used to kiss strangers than to bash them with their sword and shield at first encounter.

“ _Et pourtant c’est votre ami ici qui a attiré l’attention du Commandant,”_ he managed to say, hoping he was understandable through his thick accent.

She looked pleasantly surprised he spoke Orlaisian. “ _Oui, il charme même les plus haut placés de l’Inquisition._ ”

“Care to tell us what you said? I understood Commander, but that’s it.” Lavellan smiled, no ill intention behind her words. She was dressed the same way as Cullen, more an uniform than lacy dresses, but Dalish details had been added to represent her origins.

“I was saying that despite everyone taking the time to dress themselves to impress, it is Madame de Fer’s dog that is being cooed at without any effort.”

Anyway, that was what Cullen was very close to do, judging by the almost goofy smile spreading his lips. They began talking about dogs and their love of dogs and how to take care of dogs, all topics Dorian held more of less no importance for. The woman with Solas looked at him again, this time meaningfully, and he excused himself. He squeezed Cullen’s elbow before he was venturing away, glass in hand.

Many people saluted him as he walked through the crowd, and he felt like the Inquisitor for a moment. It was odd that they knew him for something else than being a mage. Such a bizarre occurrence, him saving the organization he’d been running from for three years.

He spotted a bald head and strode to Solas, putting on an amicable smile.

“Dear Solas, I wasn’t sure you would be present today.“

“Dorian. I wouldn’t miss it, especially not at Lavellan’s insistence." Solas’ words were polite but curt. Had he been fighting with his lover? Dorian hadn’t seen them much, but they seemed to have a peculiar relationship he didn’t dare ask about.

"Who is your charming friend?" He instead asked. 

Yellow eyes focused on him, sharp and calculating, and the lady was smiling courtly. “I believe you own all the charms of our little trio.” She extended a hand. “I’m Flemeth, an old friend of Solas.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Dorian bowed and kissed her knuckles. He could feel the magic coming off her like powerful waves drawing him in. In fact, both her and Solas’ magic seemed to be of the same kind, older than Dorian had ever felt before. It was the first time he could feel the elf’s energy this clearly.

“Your magic is familiar to me,” he commented none too-subtly. He couldn’t shake off the feeling he should be knowing her somehow, and they kept looking at him like he was at the end of a good joke. “Did we ever meet before?”

She chuckled, a deep sound that did nothing to reassure him. “Not directly, no.” He followed her glance to Lavellan talking actively with a Dalish ambassador. “I’ve been told my presence has been everywhere, however.”

“…You’re Mythal.” It was her magic he fought in Cullen’s mark, and he sensed it in Lavellan before, like a lingering smell. He turned to Solas. Ever since his magical display against Corypheus, he suspected Solas wasn’t some ordinary rich elf living in a small town, but someone much more important hiding away. “Then who does that make you?”

“Why, haven’t you seen his wolf pelts he preciously keeps around and wears?” She gestured to the one he was sporting across his chest. Dorian had read enough about the Dalish culture to recognize the symbols.

“You’re Fen’Harel. Lavellan knew it, that’s the reason you quit the Inquisition before,” he said with awe.

“Old enemies would have discovered my presence within the Inquisition once they learnt Skyhold, was being used as its headquarters.”

“Who else could have known about this decrypted place, after all?” Flemeth chuckled, and Solas shot her a sour glance.

“Why did you come here then? To meet your old friend, or to check on the one bearing the Old Gods’ knowledge — your knowledge?”

“Both. We have some centuries to catch up, and I wanted to know in which hands my knowledge has fallen into. I had yet to make a decision, despite Solas’ clear opinion on the Lady Inquisitor.”

She had another smile, one more genuine. “You did a good job trying to lift my curse, I have to admit. It wasn’t your responsibility, but your stubbornness saved more than Commander Rutherford in the end.”

“As I’ve been told a few times today.” Dorian gulped down his drink. “Now, not that it wasn’t pleasant talking to you two, but I shall take my leave and try to wrap up my head about meeting presumed gods in the flesh.”

Flemeth nodded. “Prevent yourself from talking about this to anyone for the time being, will you? I’d hate to have to crush a brilliant mind such as yours.”

Dorian took half a step back, both to retreat and out of discomfort. “You shan’t worry. I have no intention of spilling your secret identities.”

With that he turned around and headed for the nearest door. He needed fresh air. He passed by Iron Bull and Krem who were harvesting the buffet, Bull delicately eating hors-d'œuvres smaller than his thumbs.

A self-proclaimed god, living old gods taken from a fallen civilisation’s mythology, who or what next would he be presented with? Giants holding Thedas together?

He realized he was in the Inquisitor’s quarters, and she had very nice balconies with a view across the mountains. The fresh air calmed him. It was a lot to take, and truth be told, he wasn’t as used to be around a lot of people at once. He could hear the music from here, creating a soothing atmosphere with the birds chirping and the sun slowly giving way to the darkness at the horizon.

“Dorian?” Cullen called from inside and found him like this, leaning against the railing. “Why are you here on your own? Did something happen?”

Dorian chuckled despite himself, his lover’s concern endearing. “Not really. I just felt like some fresh air.” Cullen rested against him, looking down at him instead of the scenery. “Did you get to pet the small dog?”

“I did. He is quite energetic for his size. Vivienne proposed to meet me in the gardens so we could walk him together.” He said, pressing a kiss against the nape of his neck. Dorian shivered partly at the feel of his stubble against his sensitive skin, but also at the firm body in his back. This outfit was very pleasant, the material thin enough so he could feel all of him.

“Anything to keep you away from your papers,” he said.

Cullen hummed. “ _Amatus_ , are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am, love, don’t worry. It’s just a lot to get my head wrapped around.” He turned around. “I promise I’ll tell you everything later on. For now…”

He grinned, taking a step away to present his hand. “Could I have this dance, Commander?”

“With you? Certainly.” Cullen returned his smile, taking a hesitant stance before letting Dorian lead their slow dance, his arms encircling Dorian’s waist while the mage’s went around his neck, their forehead resting together. It wasn’t much of a dance as just moving together, and they were far too close for proper etiquette, but it still felt very nice.

“I’d very much would like to dance with you downstairs as well,” he quietly commented as one of his thumb was stroking his hip.

“Don’t worry, we will.” Dorian pecked his lips, scratching his nails lightly up his scalp, and Cullen smiled into the kiss. “This is just a warm up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sentit bonum** = It feels good  
>  **Et pourtant c’est votre ami ici qui a attiré l’attention du Commandant** = And still, it’s your friend here who managed to get the Commander’s attention.  
>  **Oui, il charme même les plus haut placés de l’Inquisition** = Yes, he charms even the high-ranked ones of the Inquisition.


End file.
